Epic: The Third Survivor
by Indigo Siren
Summary: As her hometown of Raccoon City falls into chaos, young Sherry Birkin can only follow her mother's advice and take shelter at the Police Station. But that's only the beginning of her nightmare... -Sherry's exploits during Resident Evil 2-
1. Prologue

**Epic: The Third Survivor**

**By. Indigo Siren**

_Disclaimer: Resident Evil is __ to Capcom. I do not own any of the characters and situations depicted from the games. They are merely being used for entertainment purposes only. I do however own this story and any characters and scenarios that were not featured in the franchise. All rights reserved._

**A/N: And my next piece for the Resident Evil category is a story following Sherry Birkin through her own exploits in Resident Evil 2, hooking them up to the main game scenario (you shall see which of the two I will be following as it progresses). As we don't know what is happening with the future of the Sherry character for certain, I decided to explore her character through RE2, as I've wanted to sit down and write about her for quite a while. Such an overlooked character - I hope to do her some justice. Anyway, don't hesitate to review, though, no flames (of any kind). If you don't like, don't review, as simple as that. Hope you enjoy!**

**Prologue**

_**Calendar date: 25**__**th**__** July 1998**_

"… _An investigation is still being launched into the incident that occurred out in the Arklay mountain region involving the Raccoon City Police's special forces team, S.T.A.R.S. Police Chief Brian Irons has yet to release a formal statement regarding the unsolicited destruction of Umbrella property and the deaths of eight members of the team, including an RPD pilot who was temporarily drafted to the team for that single mission. More information on this tragic occurrence is expected to be made public by tomorrow morning…"_

The news broadcast ran down a list of recent happenings in the Midwestern Raccoon City, some stories being tragic, some triumphant, though mostly focused on the current hot topic - the episode involving the S.T.A.R.S., which had garnered a whole lot of speculation and over-rated opinions. Though, these in part were ignored by the viewer knelt in front of the low coffee table, nestled in the small, cosy lounge.

The flickering images across the television screen only now and then peaked the interest of young Sherry Birkin, whose attention lay in the book open before her on the tabletop - Diana Wynne Jone's, '_Castle in the Air_'. The television was just background noise, bringing life into her rather lonely suburban home. She needed it so she could feel that she had some form of company. She'd had the set's volume on low when she'd first started to read, but when the news had taken over her screen, she'd turned it up a notch, just to keep up with local news. If it was boring, she'd carry on reading and block it out, and if it was appealing, she'd raise her eyes from the page to take note. Not that she was doing that very often. She'd briefly allowed her attention to follow the news about the S.T.A.R.S incident, for a moment wondering how such a well regarded team had botched up their mission and killed more then half their group. It was an interesting story, a little more refreshing if not just as morbid as the string of murders that had been plastered all over the TV and in the papers over the last few months. Though, there had been no new cases in the last week, so it was a wait and see matter whether or not another one would occur.

The news ended and Sherry went back to her book, not bothering to change the channel as highlights from a recent baseball game began blazing across the screen in an overly dramatised showcase.

It was a warm summers evening, lacklustre and uneventful. The temporary curfew for under eighteens had set in an hour ago at nine o'clock and there was no juice left in the house. She'd had to settle for the last of the milk. If she'd had more enthusiasm, she might have called around next door and asked for some, but she felt like too much of a burden to them already with how they looked out for her while her parents frequently worked late into the night.

Her mother and father were very important researchers for Umbrella Inc., and they spent little time outside of the office, and were rarely around at home, even on weekends.

Or with Sherry.

But she was used to it, even though it was a pretty depressing way of life - especially as an only child playing master of a large, uncommitted house. If she'd had a lot of friends, she'd have been out a lot more, especially making the most of her summer vacation. But she didn't, and the few she did have already had plans with their families. She couldn't help but feel envious of them for what she didn't have. Anytime they moaned about their families being unfair on them, she'd always tell them to be thankful for the attention they got.

Her ears pricked up to the sound of keys jingling on the porch and the front door unlocking, followed by the sounds of voices. Her parents were home. Sherry glanced towards the lounge door and then to the antique clock above the fireplace. Just after ten. It was odd her parents were home at this hour. Midnight or after was the time they came back if they did. She placed her marker inside her book and closed it, going to greet her parents, whom seemed to be arguing in hushed voices. They paused mid-sentence when Sherry stepped out into the hall. They tried and failed to look as casual as possible as they tiredly hung up their coats.

She could see her father looked awful. His sandy hair in disarray, chin thick with stubble, and work clothes creased and grubby. He'd not been coming home very often and when he did, he was in an agitated mood.

William Birkin shared the briefest of glances with his wife, Annette. A look that only she could read. Rubbing his tired eyes, he headed on towards the kitchen, offering only a fleeting smile to his daughter though his heart wasn't really in the expression. The young girl wished she could have heard what they'd been saying. Something was going on at work - something that was really upsetting her father to the point the he looked nervous, but she didn't ask. Anytime she'd ever tried to pry important information from her parents she'd be scolded for snooping into private affairs. She didn't want to make the same mistake again.

Her mother had been holding her breath for a short time, her gaze following after her husband. Finally, she sighed tucking her short, blonde hair behind an ear absentmindedly. At least she was in a better state of personal appearance, which only marginally eased her daughter's brimming concerns, though she knew with hidden irritation that her mother was going to pretend that nothing was wrong.

"Hello, sweetheart," her mother greeted softly. "Had a good evening?"

"Yeah…" She shifted between her bare feet as she leaned against the doorway. "We're out of juice and milk. Can you leave me some money to pick up some groceries tomorrow?"

"Of course, of course. I'll leave it on the kitchen table before I go to work. If you need anything else, ask Sally from next door and I'll reimburse them later."

"Thank you." Nothing more was said between them. Most of the time is was like this. Small, practical conversations. No meaningless chit-chat. Even when she wanted to they were either too busy or never there. She watched her mother disappear into the kitchen after her father and decided to return to the lounge and her book.

Whatever conversation her parents were having didn't reach her ears, even though she could still hear a faint mumble of their words through the wall. She'd turned off the television, bored with the unappealing choice of shows. Even with that amount of sound cut out, she knew that her parents were making sure that she didn't overhear them talking.

It had to be work related. Their lives in Umbrella was all a big secret.

Twenty minutes later, they had gone upstairs to bed, though not before her mother popped her head inside the lounge to briefly wish her goodnight and telling her not to stay up too much longer.

Sherry was mature for her age. Other kids left to their own devices would have run riot and gone to sleep at ridiculous hours. But not her. She'd had to take control of her life, like it or not.

She placed her bookmark in around about the halfway point of her book and headed up to bed about ten minutes after her parents.

The house she walked through was not quite a 'home' by any means. They lived there, ate there, slept there, but there was no real love inside those four walls. Her parents spent more time at work then trying to create a cosy family life. The home was efficient, with all the necessary implements to making life run smoother. But the things that made a home a home were absent. There were very few pictures up, and the ones that were didn't depict the family in any way. The picture on the front of the fridge was one that Sherry had put up herself, just to add that certain something to the household. Her parents wouldn't have thought to do something like that.

Everything was so prim and proper. Neat and tidy to the point it felt like a show house on sale in an auction. The magnolia walls throughout the house made it feel more empty then it already was.

After washing up in the bathroom, the twelve-year-old stepped towards the doorway of her bedroom, glancing down the hall to the far end where her parent's room was. They were mumbling away again, keeping their secrets well and truly to themselves. The young girl sighed. She felt excluded from their world. She only wanted to be a bigger part of her parents life, but she figured that would probably never happen.

It was only Sherry's room that showed any colour. The fine candy floss pink walls were covered with pictures and posters of all kinds. This is where all the good family memories were stored in every framed photograph decorating the child's room. She loved her parents very much, and understood that they cared for her the best they could even with their busy schedules. She strongly recalled those few times they put work aside just for a short while to spend time with her.

The picnic down the park, the visit to the zoo, the camping trip in the Arklay mountains when she was still quite little… She had pictures of them all - to remind her that there was time in their lives for little Sherry Birkin.

This room was the room where she never let herself feel unhappy. Decorated with teddy bears, dolls, and souvenirs from family and school trips - this was her haven. She would never let the good memories fade in here, even if she did feel trapped in a box with nobody to rescue her.

She slipped into a pair of blue cotton pyjamas, and jumped into bed, settling under the thin duvet cover decorated in pink and yellow posies.

She listened to the night through her open window. An owl hooted from the tree in her neighbours garden, and tiny crickets chirped in chorus somewhere on their front lawn. The air was crisp and clear, a gentle breeze jostling her curtains and removed the last of the swamping heat from the air.

Carefully, she placed her book on the nightstand and turned off her lamp, plunging her colourful room into darkness. Tugging her duvet up to her chin, she closed her eyes, the grasp of sleep not too far away.

Her last thoughts before drifting off into blissful dreams were of her parents. Maybe when the stresses of work had lifted, they could all take a trip together again. She'd always wanted to go the ranch just outside of town and ride the horses there. Great stallions and beautiful mares with coats that glistened in the sunlight.

But she'd have to wait and see, not only with her parents, but what was happening with the bizarre murder cases.

_They'll stop eventually. They can't go on forever… _She couldn't imagine things getting any worse in her peaceful town of Raccoon City.


	2. Chapter 1: We All Fall Down

**Epic: The Third Survivor**

**By. Indigo Siren**

_Disclaimer: Resident Evil is __copyright__ to Capcom. I do not own any of the characters and situations depicted from the games. They are merely being used for entertainment purposes only. I do however own this story and any characters and scenarios that were not featured in the franchise. All rights reserved._

**A/N: Sorry it took me a while to get this out, but I had a hard time getting it started. Anyway, I'm surprised that it actually ended up this long in the end, but oh well, that gives you all plenty to read after the long wait. On with the show!**

**Chapter 1: We All Fall Down**

Over a week ago, Sherry's father stopped coming home.

Even before then, he would only sporadically return to the house at all hours of the night, and if she managed to catch sight of him it was by pure luck alone. Usually he was hidden behind closed doors and the times he didn't come home he would call to say so, though he didn't speak much to Sherry herself, rather to her mother in what became hushed conversations. There had been a lot of tension built up in the last couple of months and Sherry knew that there were serious problems going on at his workplace. Respectfully though, she kept her nose out, and just hoped whatever issues resolved themselves as soon as possible.

But whatever they were, they were stopping her father from coming home, or even calling now. Not seeing him, or hearing his voice, she fretted for his wellbeing. But in these recent days, it wasn't just her father she needed to worry about. There was something very wrong in Raccoon City.

For weeks there had been stories going around about strange creatures lurking in the mountains. Many were concerned that the murders from months back were starting up again, but there were no reported incidents like the ones before. It seemed that whatever had been the root cause had been resolved with the incident in July. But that didn't stop the rumours spreading the fear.

And then came the 'sickness'. Nobody knew what to call it, and the children at Sherry's school had simply taken to referring to it as that. It was like nothing ever encountered before. At first, it was only a few people who were taking ill, but soon, greater numbers were experiencing the effects of something they weren't quite sure of. Symptoms included profuse sweating, confusion, sores, nausea, extreme tiredness and even victims becoming comatose within a matter of hours of showing the first signs of it. Quite a few people, according to the media, had already died.

Each week at school, more and more of her classmates began disappearing, succumbing to the 'sickness'. The week before, the teachers had finally decided to close the school until the epidemic had been quelled.

But there was no signs of stopping it.

And then the violent incidents began to occur. Lunatics stumbling around the streets incoherently and with a seemingly insatiable blood lust, which brought on the recommendation from city hall that people stay locked in their houses until the situation could be rectified.

The 'sickness' had degraded quickly into madness. People tried to carry on with their lives as if nothing was happening, but however much they tried, they were unable to escape what was right in their faces. The most recent report of insanity was when a football game was called off because of a deranged man in the crowds. Nobody, it seemed, could enjoy life anymore.

Sherry remained in disbelief about her hometown, trying to work out how they went from the rampage of murders stopped by the S.T.A.R.S. team to these sudden widespread disturbances?

_A calm before the storm… _It had been too much to expect peace after those blood-turning incidents in the Arklay Mountains. Had those murders in the forest really been the beginning of bad times in Raccoon City? Insanity seemed to be rife and even young Sherry called into question whether the city would ever be safe again.

It had been hard to watch everything around her regress into such a disturbed mess. Her own father's unease and sudden disappearance; and then the dark shadow of the 'sickness'. Her poor world had come undone at the seams.

She wished her mother would talk to her, so that maybe she could understand a bit more about what was happening with her family, but she kept up her silence, completely focused on everything that was going on at work. She seemed to blind to her very existence at times. And now, too, her mother was staying away from the house, especially in the last few days - though she had kept contact over the phone. But it really wasn't the same.

Sherry felt detached as she listened to her mother play a parent from a far. "Stay in the house. Don't go out, not for anything, especially after curfew," was her usual instructions, and she would politely obey them as a good daughter should.

As much as she hoped and prayed the bad times would go away and the town got back to normal, little did she realise that things were going to change forever. Not just for Raccoon City, but for young Sherry Birkin as well…

_Calendar Date: 24__th__ September 1998, 11:13 p.m._

Sherry awoke with a start as a hideous screech pierced her ear. Alert but blurry eyed, she sat up on the couch where she'd dosed off, turning herself towards the source of the sound. The television set.

She'd been watching it all evening, especially the news channels reporting more violent outbursts with what people described as 'zombie-like' figures latching other Raccoon City residents and taking chunks out of them. There had only been a few blurry snapshots for some of the cases, making Sherry wary to believe, but nevertheless, the stories had her disturbed.

Awoken from dreams covered in shadows, she felt cold and uneasy, her eyes slowly clearing to regard the flashing images on the television screen. With peaked interest, she slid from the couch onto the floor, skidding over to sit in front of the set.

A female reporter occupied the unsteady frame, behind her was a stampede of people rushing past, a few banging into her as they went. The whole while she tried to maintain her composure as she relayed her shock story about zombies in horrific numbers swarming the streets of Raccoon City.

"In response to the threat," she carried on hurriedly, "the police are acting swiftly to erect barricades to create safe havens in the city. Only certain areas are currently danger zones – most of the central area of the city with reports that some suburban areas are also being invaded. Safety points have been reported to be around the police station, city hall, the hospital and St. Michael's clock tower. You are recommended to-"

Suddenly the image switched away from her and instead into a thick crowd as the image became more and more erratic. There was so much noise, screams and shouting, and something that distinctly sounded like a growl. The cameraman was panting loudly, as picked up by the camera's microphone. By the way the camera was moving, Sherry knew he was running away.

"This can't be real…" Sherry whispered to herself, trying to keep up with the images dancing back and forth before her. Suddenly, the jittery screen did a three-sixty as the camera turned right into the face of another man.

But there was no fear in this other man's face, in fact, his expression was one that she'd never seen before.

Pure animalistic rage.

The ashen face with its wide, dead eyes, roared into the camera, saliva spraying across the lens as it attacked. Sherry gasped, falling backwards away from the screen as it lurched. Though the camera pitched, she could clearly see this man was unwell. Not just unwell, he looked nigh on death. His face was drawn so that bones were clearly defined, and lumps of skin were peeling off and hanging in thick flaps.

New screams erupted as the camera fell, hitting the ground with a great thump. Static jumped across the screen for a moment before rejoining the scene. A man's leg was kicking violently as his agonised cries trembled in the microphone. A pool of blood began to form around him, flowing right into the camera frame and wetting the lens. In the background, people were still running, escaping desperately moaning figures. People that used to be people.

"Zombies…" Sherry muttered to herself. The images quickly cut out as the transmitting stations logo appeared on the screen with text apologising for technical difficulties.

This was just like the S.T.A.R.S. had said. The media had panned their claims and ridiculed them. But now it seemed that their so called 'crazy talk' was in fact a very horrific reality…

The phone began to ring.

Sherry jumped, her heart almost skipping a beat. Taking a deep breath, she switched off the set and rushed out into the hall to answer the phone.

"Hello?"

"Sherry, listen to me," her mother's hastily directed down the line. There was a great deal of desperation that was becoming suppressed under her commanding tone.

"Mom? What's-"

"You need to go to the police station. You'll be safe there."

"What's happening!"

"I don't have time to explain, just do as I ask! Hopefully I should be with you soon and I'll try and explain as much as I can." Before Sherry could impart another word, her mother was gone.

"The police station…" She muttered, placing the receiver back down. The woman on the news had said that was one of the safe zones.

If her mother thought it best then she wouldn't disobey. But she needed to get ready.

She rushed up to the bathroom to wash up, tossing her dirty t-shirt and shorts into the hamper. There wasn't going to be much choice in the clothing department - the washing machine had been on the blink in the last week and she was now down to the last articles in her wardrobe.

The last outfit in her wardrobe was a gift from an aunt on her mother's side. She'd travelled to Japan one year and had come back with a two piece outfit based on a Japanese school girls attire. Sailor suits they called them.

She'd not worn it before and hadn't had much enthusiasm to either, but she had no choice in the matter now. She considered even trying to get out her winter clothes, but her mother had moved them up into the attic out of the way, and it would just take too long to get them down. She would have to make do.

Fully dressed, she combed her hair and pushed it back with a headband to keep it out of the way, after which she grabbed the last item to complete her outfit. Her favourite pendant.

_Mom… Dad… What's going on? You know, don't you? Strange stuff has been going on with you, too… _She opened her treasured possession to look at the picture inside. All three of them together enjoying a summer afternoon years ago.

It felt such a long time ago.

Snapping it shut, she undid the clasp and put it around her neck. She touched it and said a quiet prayer before getting back to business. Retrieving her school backpack from under the bed, she tipped the contents out onto the floor. She really had no idea what she needed to pack for provisions, not really knowing how long she was going to be away for.

Firstly, she decided on medical supplies. She retrieved the first aid kit from the bathroom and tipped the most useful contents into the front pocket of her bag. She also made sure to grab a first aid spray from the cabinet, which she remembered was good on even the nastiest of wounds.

Next stop was the kitchen. No cupboard was left unturned as she piled up the remaining convenient snacks and tossed them into her bag - some breakfast bars, crisps, chocolate and a bottle of soda - and even decided a couple of napkins wouldn't hurt, too.

She grabbed one of her lighter jackets from the hall, figuring it was better to have it then not to in case the weather changed. After stuffing that inside her pack, she paused by the stairs, wondering what else she might need.

With all the zombies around, she needed some way to protect herself. But with what? She went back into the kitchen and raided the utensil drawer. All that were worth taking was a long steak knife and a toffee hammer. She bagged them both.

She felt about as ready as she would ever be and zipped up her bag, shouldering. She stared the front door as if it were a portal about to take her into whole other world. With a deep breath, she inwardly gathered her courage to tackle whatever awaited her. Even though she didn't know much about what had happened to her town, she knew for certain she was in great danger, and that she had to run for her life if she wanted to survive.

Slowly but surely, she unlatched the front door, listening out for any signs of movement beyond.

Nothing. All was deathly quiet.

She froze for the briefest of seconds as the lock loudly clicked open before pulling down the handle. At first she only made a small gap, big enough so she could peek out onto the street unnoticed.

Streetlamps lit the darkened street in an orange hue. There were no lights on in the houses directly across from her own. They seemed uninhabited, as did the streets. There were no signs of life at all, just a few stray leaves blowing down the way jostled by a light breeze. Sherry slowly slipped out onto the porch, quietly locking the door behind her.

It was eerie as she emerged onto the lonely street. As she stood staring out, she felt as if nobody else existed in the world. She should have been used to the feeling of isolation by now, but the reality of her situation made her feel sick and desperate for some company. She wanted at least one person to tell her it would be alright.

_Why didn't I guess something was wrong sooner? I'm so stupid! _But there was no time to berate herself now. She just had to get to safety.

Her eyes caught sight of movement inside her neighbour's lounge. There was a low light on and a shadowy figure seemed to be lingering right in front of the bay window. Sherry walked around to her neighbour's house, pausing in front of their fence as she stared at the figure pressing up against the window.

It was Sally Windermere, a long time friend of the family; she had taken care of Sherry on many occasions. She was a woman in her late fifties and worked proudly at a flower shop in the uptown shopping district. Her usually vibrant face - that hardly showed her true age at all - seemed to have sunk in on itself. Her now translucent eyes were half lidded and looked out emptily. Her pale, slack-jawed face was completely lost in an eternal stupor.

This was not the Sally she remembered at all.

Sherry stepped away from the fence, quivering uncontrollably with fear. How could this have happened to a woman as kind as Sally? She'd suffered enough losing her husband to the 'sickness' so suddenly, her sadness displayed as she'd sat on their porch bench day in, day out with one of his favourite cigars in her mouth. It had never been lit, merely mimicking what he had used to do. And now she too had been consumed by it. Sherry shed a tear for the lost woman before running away without a backwards glance.

For a time as she rushed through suburban Raccoon City, the silence in the air was thick, and the streets completely deserted. But by the time she reached Ennerdale Street which led into central Raccoon, things started to look more dire.

The city was trashed.

Distant wails hung on the wind; some desperately crying out for help, while others were pitched agonisingly into the air; and there was nothing she could do to help. But what could a young girl like her do anyway?

A fire burned inside what used to be a quaint little ristorante. As she veered a wide arch around it, she could see the interior had been gutted by the flames. It was a terrible shame for such a sweet little place to end up that way though the same could have been said for the rest of the street, fogged in smoke from fires scattered across the urban district. Cars were upturned on their roofs; glass littered the roadway from shattered shop fronts; even a fire hydrant had burst and was spraying a fountain of water onto the charred sidewalk. Everywhere she looked there was horrendous devastation.

A squelching to her right stopped her mid-step, and she found herself turning towards a figure hunched over a few shop fronts down, somewhat obscured by shadows. Taking a couple of tentative steps further, she realised it was a boy around her age kneeling over something she couldn't quite see. Even though a voice inside her told her not go closer, she couldn't help herself. Wet, slapping sounds seemed to echo inside her head as she swallowed back the scream when she finally managed to catch a glimpse of the thing on the floor.

A tabby cat, or should she say, a _former _tabby cat was laid out at the roadside with wide vacant eyes as the boy kneeling over it dug greedy fingers into its open chest cavity, pulling out strings of sloppy, bloodied meat. Sherry quaked, watching with wide-eyed terror as the boy turned slowly toward her with a translucent gaze sunk into his waxen face.

The deceased tabby was suddenly a distant memory when he set eyes on the young Miss Birkin.

Prime, fresh meat was now on the menu.

He wasn't alone. Other scavengers in the area picked up the scent of new prey and began to draw on her position. Appearing from shattered, blackened shop fronts and crawling from filthy alley ways, hordes of the undead began to swarm. Ten, twenty, thirty…

Without a seconds thought, Sherry bolted, ducking under the arms of the zombie boy as she ran for a side street within two hundred yards of her. If the horror of the situation hadn't hit home before, it certainly did then. The stench of rotten flesh had a stomach churning effect that Sherry had to cover her nose and mouth as she ran. She'd wanted to believe it was all a bad dream, but it would have been ridiculous to even try to dismiss the things going on around her. She really was in a living nightmare.

Arms with gnarled fingers made a grab for her, but she dodged away, thankful for her smaller stature which made the zombies stumble over themselves trying to reach her. Her legs burned with the pounding exertion; her feet started to feel numb and a stabbing pain started to attack her knees.

_I have to get to the police station, I have to get to the police station… _The panicked mantra repeated itself over and over inside her head. Her eyes darted left and right as she moved as fast as she could to avoid the lurching forms as she ran into an alley beside a pet shop. Two dumpsters were tipped over halfway down, making a sort of blockade, though there was a small gap between them, just big enough for her to fit through.

She practically skidded into a crouch, and pushed her way through sideways, navigating herself through backwards so that her bag didn't get caught up.

A trail of zombies were pouring into the alley, jamming themselves into the small space in their desperate pursuit of her quickly retreating form. But for them, they'd have a lot more trouble not only traversing the obstacles, but contending with each other as well.

Sherry disappeared around a corner, veering towards a fire escape that ascended the side of an office building, which she knew for a fact was across the street from the police station.

At the top of the steps, she came to a single steel panel door. The outside latch was broken, and she was able to tug it open to slip inside.

The space she entered was a modest little staff room, kitted out with a couple of suede-covered couches, a vending machine (which was pretty much empty from what she could see), a drinking fountain, a snooker table and a large TV mounted on a shelf in the corner. She pulled closed the outer door, managing to push the middle steel bar into place to lock it from the inside.

Exhausted from her quick sprint, she almost fell over herself as she went for the nearest couch, sinking into as she sat down. The cold material had a strange texture to it that tickled the backs of her bare calves.

She blew out a long sigh, tightly hugging herself as she looked around the vacant room, only the hum from the vending machine for company.

There was a good chance there were zombies in the building, though there was little she could do about that. She had to get to the police station somehow, hoping she would eventually be reunited with her mother.

But she was scared. Every time she glanced up at the door leading further inside, she felt sick with fear. It was enough just to have risked life and limb running through streets swamped with the undead. A part of her told her just to stay put. The staff room seemed relatively safe for now.

But she couldn't just sit there waiting for the monsters to find her.

_Be brave… _Not quite as easy to put into practice as one would think, but sitting around pondering the matter was not in her favour. She needed to keep moving before she got too comfortable.

For that extra bit of support, she took the knife out of her bag, clasping it between both hands. The weight of it gave her some comfort.

There were no sounds behind the door. It was a little too quiet.

Gritting her teeth, she turned the doorknob and peeked out into the dark corridor. The once pale carpet was splattered with blood stains. Where they had come from, she couldn't guess and didn't want to know. There was nobody in the corridor, not even a corpse - undead or otherwise. Whatever violence had happened was well and truly over.

Opening the door in full, she slipped out hesitantly and proceeded down the corridor. The plain, dreary walls were stale and uninviting. The smell left by the blood gave the confined space a musty twang that wrinkled her delicate nose. Glancing at the solid oak doors, she took in the procession of plaques on each one. 'Managing Director: P. Campbell.' 'Human Resources'. 'Conference Room'.

In at least one of them there was muffled shuffling. She decided best not to check.

At the bottom corner of the corridor was a tall glass door that led into the stairwell. Pushing it open, she stepped onto the laminate floor and right into a puddle of blood. Squirming, she walked to the first step, where big drops of blood led all the way down onto the next landing and down the steps to the basement level. But her attention drifted away from the trail and went to the door on the next landing. It had two panels of glass protected by bars on the inside. The broken sign above it indicated it was the emergency exit.

Brusquely taking the steps to the landing, she looked out onto the street through the bars. A couple of police cars were scattered around by the side gate to the police station, one of them was leaning on burst tires and smouldering in the aftermath of a blaze. Parked just down the way was a fire engine left abandoned; across from that was a crashed city service bus. Wedged between them was a railed barricade holding back a small group of zombies idling in the area.

Sherry looked back at the gate. She could easily reach it in a couple of seconds. Swallowing back the feeling of apprehension, she lifted the door bar and pushed it open.

An alarm began to blare shrilly over her head. Panicking, she rushed through the door and slammed it shut, the sound muffling behind the thick glass. But it didn't stop.

The idle zombies started to moan eagerly, turning in her direction. Stirred back into action, they piled against the barricade, shaking it profusely. It rattled with violent shakes. It wasn't going to hold up to much abuse.

Sherry didn't waste a single second. Zigzagging through the police cars, she ignored the undead horde and reached for the gate. A split second before touching it she acknowledged with cold fear the chain wrapped tightly through the handle and railings. It was bolted in place.

A loud crash indicated the barricade had collapsed and the zombies began to pour over it, crawling and staggering in her direction.

Sherry shook the gate profusely. "HELP! PLEASE HELP ME SOMEBODY!" The bolt and chain rattled but stayed firm. It wasn't going to open under any circumstances. Terrified tears poured down her cheeks as she repeated her frantic cry. There had to be someone still around to help her.

The moans were getting closer. Each slow, staggering step ate away at her hope for survival.

She stared at them with frightened eyes, still calling out. "HELP ME! PLEASE!"

Hurried footsteps jolted her attention back towards the gate. Where were the steps coming from?

_Someone's coming! I know it! _From the shadows of an underpass beneath the station entrance, a figure finally appeared. It was a police officer, tall, dark-skinned, and he was lugging a shotgun. As he drew closer, she could see the name on his tag. 'M. Branagh'.

He shouldered the gun and with great agility, bounded up onto the top of the gate, hanging himself over midway. He quickly offered his hand. "Come on! I'll pull you up!"

Sherry stepped onto the bottom rail of the gate and stretched up on her tiptoes, just managing to reach his hand. He clasped it and she felt herself suddenly yanked up. There was only so far he could pull her up in his position and she made a grab for the top of the gate. He supported her back as she struggled to get herself up onto it. Precariously straddling she waited for him to jump down before following himself, just as the zombies reached the gate. He caught her in his arms, backing away as greedy arms tried to reach for them.

He set her down, touching her shoulders. "Its okay, you're safe now. Run on inside." She nodded and did as was asked, only looking back when she heard the deafening sound of the shotgun blasting through the gate, knocking back the gathering zombies.

She reached the large double doors, one side of which was already open and waiting, and entered.

She'd never been to the police station before, but she knew the building had many years ago been both an art gallery and a museum. The large main hall was decked out in expensive wood panelling, tall stone walls and polished marble plate flooring. She found herself staring way up towards the ceiling which, to a small girl like her, felt like a million miles away. It was an overwhelming kind of place; a little too grand for what it was suppose to be.

Her attention drew away from the building itself to the people occupying the hall. Police officers and civilians alike gathered in disarray. Some were quiet in a state of shock, while others were on the edge of hysteria, babbling away to try and fill the silence.

Sherry turned as her saviour strode in, shutting the door behind him. "That appears to be everyone for the time being," he said to a fellow officer, a woman with short cut blond hair. 'R. Cowell' was written on her name tag. "We should gather everyone further into the station for now and wait for news from the front."

"Are they starting to get through the barricades?" Officer Cowell asked him, her thick Texan accent hard to decipher with her voice so beset with worry.

"It was inevitable," Officer Branagh said solemnly. "But it doesn't seem many have got too far. We've barricaded up pretty much all of the streets surrounding the station, and we're covered with crack shots at the fences. I heard through the radios earlier they're planning to blow up a part of uptown Raccoon to see if they can clear some of them out. We'll just have to wait and see what happens." Her expression didn't seem convinced and he nudged her arm supportively, offering a smile. "We might be able to get out of here safely at some point. But for now, we need to get some guys armoured up so we can re-erect the barricades on the east side. " He turned to Sherry as his colleague went off to talk to a couple of her fellow officers. "That was a close one. What were you doing out on the streets alone?"

All she could do was shrug. "There was nobody around. I came here because my mom told me to." She suddenly felt very stupid.

He sighed and gave her a smile. "Don't worry, you're safe now." He patted her shoulder and headed down the steps in front of them. He spoke up to get everyone's attention. "LISTEN UP! WE'RE GOING TO MOVE FURTHER INTO THE BUILDING! CAN SOME OF YOU PLEASE FOLLOW ME INTO THE WAITING AREA AND OTHERS FOLLOW OFFICER COWELL OVER THERE INTO THE WEST OFFICES! THANK YOU!"

The crowds split, not quite knowing which way to go, but followed the instructions as best as they could in their sheep-like states.

Officer Branagh looked down at Sherry. "I'm Marvin. What's your name?"

"Sherry."

"Okay, Sherry, would you like a hot drink while you wait? The machines are still working."

Right then a hot drink sounded better than heaven itself. She readily accepted the offer as she followed a group of people into the east Reception room. It wasn't particularly a big room and there was only one bench to sit on, which was quickly occupied, but a blonde haired woman in striped waitress apparel quickly gave up her seat when she saw Sherry had to sit on the floor.

Sitting quietly in a semi-bustling room, she suddenly felt more alone than ever. She didn't recognise a single person. She wanted to say something, to anyone, but thought the words would be pointless and unhelpful. She wanted to familiarise herself with at least one person, but a little voice deep down told her that she shouldn't make connections at a time like this. Who knew who might end up dying next.

Eyes set firmly on her lap, she tried to ignore the weeping and terrified chatter going on around her as she waited for something to happen.

Anything was better than nothing at all.


	3. Chapter 2: Haunted By Fear

**Epic: The Third Survivor**

**By. Indigo Siren**

_Disclaimer: Resident Evil is __ to Capcom. I do not own any of the characters and situations depicted from the games. They are merely being used for entertainment purposes only. I do however own this story and any characters and scenarios that were not featured in the franchise. All rights reserved._

**A/N: A bit of a filler chapter before we start getting into the real meat of the story. Anyway! Enjoy!**

**Chapter 2: Haunted By Fear**

Minutes turned into hours; hours turned into days; days… never-ending.

Hopelessness. Prayers left unanswered. A lingering nightmare they'd all hoped would have faded away. But it wasn't so simple as opening their eyes from sleep. It was reality in all its morbid glory.

_What's going to happen to me? Will I end up dying all alone? _These thoughts had constantly plagued young Sherry as she watched one by one, the people around her disappear; both civilians and police officers alike - death took each and every one of them indiscriminately.

It was those first few days that were the most prolonged and agonising, as if time was purposely ticking slower and slower, trapping them in some sort of infinite limbo. What made it worse was how helpless she felt. She could do nothing except sit around and wait for something, if anything, to happen. Not that she didn't try, to offer aid and comfort where she could, but it was either dismissal or faux appreciation from those who could only see her as a child.

_But I'm a smart kid! I can help! I can, I can!_ She wanted to say the words out loud, but refrained, not wanting to cause trouble when they were already suffering enough.

The survivors did their best to unite in their efforts to protect the station from an impending onslaught. They all knew that it would happen at some point - it was just the when and how that had them all jittery.

All the ground floor windows were boarded up; a blockade of cars were pushed together to make a barrier around the station; all unused areas and exits were sealed off for extra protection. Weapons were handed out to those who could fight - guns to those who could use them and sturdy handheld items to the others. But somehow it seemed useless. Zombies were slipping through the net - some from the outside, but some materialised from within.

Anyone in the station could turn into a zombie at any time. Whatever the infection, most of the populous were contaminated. With such a concept now circulating amongst the survivors, there was a lot of tension and unease. A person who could be helping one minute could suddenly turn the next and be feasting on the nearest flesh. Those who began to show the symptoms were quickly isolated, but not all cases could be caught in time and for the most, were quickly put down.

Sherry had seen this happen firsthand. A woman who'd been sitting on a bench just down from her - guessed to have been in her thirties and definitely a little chunky at the midriff - had looked to have been sleeping. It wasn't anything unusual, she'd done so quite often during their time there, so nobody showed any concern. But in the next instant, she rose up, yowling demonically, white eyes searching out the nearest throat to tear apart. Officer Cowell, or simply Rita as she'd asked everyone to call her, quickly dropped her with a single bullet to the brain. Sherry had sat frozen the whole time, watching the blood pool spread from beneath the corpse almost to where she was. Minutes later she'd been vomiting into a plant pot. Luckily, she hadn't had to experience anything like that since.

Only so many zombies managed to get into the station in those early days, but enough to show this was a battle they may not win. They were just about able to cope. As much as they placed their hope in their sanctum, Sherry couldn't help but feel that they had built their own prison. What if something happened and they couldn't get out? As much as she tried not to think negatively, their situation was getting worse by the day. Dark thoughts were rife amongst each and every surviving person.

On one of the long, indistinguishable nights - while procuring herself a bottle of juice from a drinks machine on the second floor - she'd found herself staring out of a window, down into the darkened precinct. There didn't appear to be much movement at first, just the stillness of the surrounding buildings. And then, there it was, emerging under the dimmed outer lights - something she couldn't quite distinguish. She could only see a glimpse of its outline; vaguely human, but greatly malformed - specifically one of its upper limbs. It was dragging something heavy behind it, something she couldn't really see. Her imagination did the work for her. And through the silence, it began to howl. A mixture of pain, anger and sorrow. Needless to say, she ran into the nearest room and locked herself inside until she felt safe to come out again.

She couldn't believe there'd be anything worse out there then the zombies.

On September 27th, three days after the outbreak, a frontline assault on Central Street ended in disaster. The police defences were massacred. The only officers left alive were the ones taking refuge in the police station. It was their last real stronghold. By the early hours of the 28th, it was confirmed that a great hordes of zombies were closing in on them.

Marvin, in a last ditch attempt, tried to arrange an escape effort. Rita had crawled out to a contact meeting point through a passage under the statue in the main hall. A van managed to fight through the streets to get there, but only a few people were able to escape amidst a sudden zombie blitz. More people died then were actually saved. Most of the remaining cops were killed repelling the hordes. Though a temporary peace was brought upon the station, the damage was already done. The place was no longer safe.

During the kafuffle, Sherry had taken to hiding in the vents. She'd discovered a loose covering in the downstairs waiting room and after ascertaining she was small enough to fit, had scuttled in for safety. Most of the zombies were too big to follow her, though most of them were too stupid to even consider it. She was relatively safe. For now.

In the labyrinth of welded steel passages she remained, lonely and frightened. She would lay, clutching her knees tightly to her chest as she tried to block out the terrified screams and hungry moans resonating down the hollow flue.

Sometime in between previous events, she had lost her backpack. Sherry and a small group of survivors had been traversing between rooms when a scuffle had broken out in the corridor between a policeman and a zombie. At some point during this event, a control panel on the wall had taken damage and the protective shutters suddenly malfunctioned and shot open. A zombie outside burst through the unprotected window and made a grab for her, snagging her pack. She struggled desperately until her arms slipped free from the straps it and she made her escape, regrettably leaving her supplies behind.

After hours cooped up in the ventilation system, the sounds from the outside dissipated, bringing in a heavy, eerie silence. Now and again a pitiful moan pierced the stillness, but for the most part, everything seemed blanketed in a copious hush. Every now and then she would be overcome with a terrible fear - the fear that the zombies would sniff her out and pry her through one of the openings. With these thoughts wracking her, she kept as quiet as humanly possible.

For a whole day she found herself crawling through the venting system like a tiny mouse. Some areas were even too small even for her to navigate, but she had near enough free roam of most of the station, keeping an eye out for the safer areas and the places which were too risky to visit. She felt a little like a fly on the wall, peeking in on locations to see what was happening. Besides milling zombies and butchered, bloodied corpses, there was nothing worth looking at.

As more days progressed in a long, piteous cycle, she ended up trying to sleep more then to stay awake. It seemed better to hide in her own mind then to stay glued to a reality riddled with monsters. Though it wasn't exactly safe inside her restless dreams either. As she lay drifting in and out of twisted scenes concocted by her own imagination, she felt the switch between warm and cold air on a constant rotation throughout the ventilation system. It was obvious that the air conditioning unit had malfunctioned, but it was something she ha little concern over. It was neither too hot or too cold.

Her fears mostly focused on the future. What awaited her next? She was too scared to try and make an escape, the unknown too much of a frightening prospect. Beyond the vents was a horror so great, so dangerous, there was no hope for someone like her to survive. This was suppose to be the safest place to be - the place her mother had told her to go. But now it was crawling with the undead. She needed someone to guide her through, but all the most important people who'd been with her over the last few days were either dead or missing.

In those long days she often wondered what had become of her parents. Were they safe? Were they dead? Had they arrived at the station yet? Were they hiding at their workplace? She couldn't bear not knowing, but there wasn't much she could do about the situation, rather just pray that they were alright.

Though she felt a sense of isolation hiding away like she was, she knew she wasn't completely alone. There were still a few people alive in the station, running from the zombie masses. She'd seen them going to and fro mindlessly, trying to find their salvation.

There had been the police chief, Brian Irons. She'd seen him pass the vent she was hiding in, gun totting and eyes twitching like a mad man.

When she'd first arrived at the station, he'd made a brief appearance, mostly to berate his subordinates and tell them to gas out most of the areas of the station to stop the monsters (which it didn't and ended up harming a few of the survivors). There was something pretty disturbed about him. Something not quite right about his eyes - dark and narrow - suspicious like. She had instantly distrusted him.

They were all thankful when he'd holed himself up in his office, refusing to come out. But now, he was prowling around like a beast out of it's cage. Sherry couldn't help feeling an edge of panic with his presence in the corridors, almost as scared of him as she was of the zombies.

The mayor's daughter had also survived up until now, fluttering around in an expensive evening gown like a panicked swan. Sherry had only spoken to her briefly when they'd been herded into the conference room with a few other survivors. But she wasn't exactly the best conversationalist, due to the fact she was nigh on hysterical. The poor woman couldn't even hold a coffee without her hand going into spasm, so she avoided drinking it so that she didn't spill the contents over her expensive white dress. Sherry had watched her try and ring her father on her phone, wailing to nobody particular that he had abandoned her when she needed him most. It did everyone best to ignore the woman and leave her to her self pity.

Sherry did her best to detach herself from the emotional outbursts. It got nobody anywhere. She was just as freaked out as everyone else about their circumstances, but she had told herself to stay strong for as long as she could.

Protected by a metal grate, she stoically watched unobtrusively those few remaining survivors left to fend for themselves. Most didn't last long in a fight against creatures that barely felt pain. She felt too lost to help them those lost souls - not that she felt she could. She couldn't use a gun and she wasn't particularly strong neither.

A day after the escape effort, Sherry was awoken by the sound of glass shattering. It was so sudden she'd jolted right up, banging her head on the roof of the shaft. She clutched her head with a hiss of pain, but barely had time to consider it when she heard a huge explosion rumble a couple of corridors down. A vibration echoed through the passage, shaking her right down to her bones. She'd held her breath, frozen to the spot, trying to figure out what had caused such an explosion.

A door burst open in the room below her vent, slamming against the wall. Sherry slid down to look out the grate but she couldn't see anything. But then, in a blur, a woman rushed past at a breakneck pace. Sherry barely got a glimpse of her, only knowing for sure she was wearing a short blue top. A minute behind her, another blur. This one, not human.

It was a hulk of brown and black, undistinguishable by the speed at which it ran. But a gleam of silver on its shoulder telling her that it was carrying a dangerous weapon. It gave a guttural roar as it charged in pursuit of the mysterious woman. Another door banged twice and the two were gone.

They didn't come back.

Sherry stayed in the exact same position for a long time after. There was no other movement in the room beyond, besides the slight trickery brought on by a flickering light to the far right of the room. Finally, she relaxed to some extent, curling up again into a ball. Exhausted, and with very little food in her belly (besides a packet of crisp she'd grabbed from a broken vending machine a day or so earlier), she couldn't help but fall back into sleep, hand clutching tightly to her pendant.

_Protect me, please. Don't let me die. Not here all by myself._

Another day passed restlessly.


	4. Chapter 3: Between the Lines of Life

**Epic: The Third Survivor**

**By. Indigo Siren**

_Disclaimer: Resident Evil is __ to Capcom. I do not own any of the characters and situations depicted from the games. They are merely being used for entertainment purposes only. I do however own this story and any characters and scenarios that were not featured in the franchise. All rights reserved._

**A/N: Took me a little time to edit it, and even after, its not a particularly long chapter. But its the real beginning of events assosiated with the 2nd game. A little bit of this, that and everything. Anyway, enjoy!**

**Chapter 3: Between the Lines of Life and Death**

She awoke sometime during the late afternoon of the 29th September. Because the skies were so clouded with smoke from multiple fires in the area, it was almost as if it were night already. She didn't bother to open her eyes. Instead, she listened.

The hollow blast of air around her droned on at a consistent rate, a radiator in the corridor below clanked now and again cantankerously and a clock on the wall ticked away oblivious to events, getting louder or quieter depending on how hard she focused on the sound.

Then came another sound, sharper and more attention grabbing then the rest. It was completely new to her.

A hiss of a breath, the sound somewhat strained. The way it rolled out gave the sound an edge of a growl.

Whatever had made the sound, it wasn't human.

_Click, Click, Click…_

Sherry was diagonal from the grate, though made no effort to move. A part of her didn't want to see what was out there. Click-clacking, whatever it was, was moving. With baited breath, she waited.

CLANK! It moved over from the wall onto the front of the shaft, the loud echoing sound threatening to make her jump out of her skin. Immobile with fear, she watched, eyes widening as a creature she could have never imagined, crawled across the front of the grate.

Its body was like an open wound, no skin to cover the bloody exposed muscles. Its sharp teeth cradled a long tongue, whipping out to taste the air. Above that, shockingly, was its brain completely exposed, covering the area where the eyes should have been. On its large deadly claws, it wondered away, not seeing her statue-like form curled up there in the vent and headed off down the corridor.

Waiting until it was far enough away, she decided to slowly get up onto her hands and knees and find a new area to investigate. She didn't feel safe there anymore.

Gritting her teeth, she shimmied through the steel duct - sliding to make the least amount of noise possible. After ten minutes of crawling around the whole of the first floor of the station, she lowered herself down to a loose vent at the floor level of a dimly lit room. As she always did, she listened out for sounds beyond - moans and shuffling particularly - then peaked out to be certain there was nothing there.

The room was sparsely furnished - a couple of lockers lining one wall; a table and handful of chairs; a worn newspaper stand - though for little that was there, more of it was clutter from the occupants abandoning the place in a hurry. Strewn cups with day old coffee turning to goo in bottoms, torn 'Raccoon Times' pages covering the table and chairs, entangled with old food wrappers and stained paper plates. The room had the combined scent of faded pine air freshener, sweat and cigarette smoke that clung to the aging, yellowed wallpaper like an unwelcoming perfume.

Everything was perfectly still, perfectly quiet… perfect by a little too much. It was safe for now.

She crawled out, her knees crumpling up a paper dated a couple of days before the outbreak. Ignoring the print of what had been more normal times, she stood, wiping the black print from her knees. Her aching body reminded her that she'd been scrunched up in a confining place for much too long. This little bit of freedom was a welcome change despite her increased tension of being out relatively in the open.

Keeping herself focused, she made a beeline toward the lockers. Thankfully none of them were locked. But as much as she hoped to find hordes of helpful supplies, there was nothing really much to behold. Besides the personal effects that had no real usefulness, she found a bar of lightly scented soap, a new toothbrush still in its unopened package, a tube of toothpaste and a granola bar (not one she particularly liked, but she still ate it anyway).

There was a side room just past the lockers where she could see a sink just inside. Clutching the cleaning supplies, she hurried over, desperate to wash up. She couldn't remember the last time a bar of soap touched her face and it made her feel disgusting. It hadn't exactly been her top priority with circumstances as they were, but with the temporary reprieve, she didn't hesitate to turn on the taps. The water only ran lukewarm, but that didn't bother her. She soaped up, the freshness she suddenly felt like a comforting pillow. There was a dry towel on the side, seemingly clean if not a little worn from use and laundering. She buried her face into the course cotton and sighed gratefully.

As she was cleaning her teeth, she paused as she finally peaked up at the mirror. She wasn't tall enough to see properly into the glass, but from where she could see, she suddenly paused - mouth filled with foam - spying a figure not far behind her.

She practically dribbled the foam into the sink, suddenly afraid to make too much noise, even though she had been before. Why she hadn't thought to look behind her before, she didn't know, and now suddenly felt foolish as she shakily turned.

Three sets of bunk beds were lined across the back wall, dim under the minimal lighting in the room, but on the bottom of one of the closest bunks was a man. A policeman.

For the longest of seconds she stared at his pale face. Watched and waited. But not a flicker.

He wasn't a man nor a zombie. Just another body, well and truly dead. No in-between.

Swallowing hard, she took a few paces forward, rewarded with a gruesome sight. A cavern where his throat used to be, caked in dry blood clinging to the remaining withered threads of skin and muscle. She turned away, covering her mouth as she tried to clear the image from her mind, afraid she would throw up on herself.

She returned to the sink, turning on the cold water tap so she could splash her face and drink the a couple of handfuls to calm her stomach. She clutched the ceramic basin hard enough for her finger tips to turn ghostly white, the feeling of despair washing over her like a tidal wave. She clung on, was swamped by the emotions, enough to pinprick her eyes and rode it out until she felt she was completely spent. Quivering, she turned off the tap and went back into the other room.

There were distant moans out in the corridor - hungry and desperate.

There was nothing left for her there now. Not even security, though she'd known from the start that nowhere was safe. And with the rotting corpse in the back, she had no further desire to hang around to suffer a similar fate. She hurried back to the open vent and scuttled back inside, remembered to pull the grate cover back into place. As cold and dim as they were, the grey, squared passages gave her some level of comfort.

But where was she really going to be safe? How much longer could she survive crawling through the ventilation network? It just seemed to risky to try and escape. The building was a zombie mine trap; the streets were even worse. There were even more dangerous creatures lurking in the shadows. The odds were just too highly stacked against her.

She didn't know how to properly defend herself against the monsters, nor did she have adequate equipment to even try (not that she'd know how to use a gun if she found one) - and by all accounts, there was nobody really left around to help her. Her mind fluttered like a cluster of panicked birds. As much of a smart girl she was, she just couldn't logically figure a way to get out of her damning situation.

Running - only possible for so long. Fighting - suicide. Hiding - in the same category as running. It just seemed inevitable she'd waste away there, wilt like a little flower without water.

Her gloomy thoughts trailed her all the way to her next destination. A dark room.

Certain she was alone, she squeezed out of the vent between the wall and a cabinet. The only light in the room was the illumination of a red safelight at the other end of the long counter. There was a strong smell of chemicals, some of which reminded her of bleach, but it was definitely a smell she'd never come across before. The culprits were a couple of nameless bottles tipped over by the sink.

A couple of photos were clipped onto a line over her head, the fronts of which she couldn't quite make out in the dark. They didn't seem to have come out of the developing process very well. Losing interest, she meandered into the next room. In there, the lighting was much brighter, illuminating a dull grey room with nothing more then a couple of lockers, a battered old chest, a locked filing cabinet and an aging desk with a standard plastic-covered chair.

She searched the desk drawers. Nothing but stationary and old reels of undeveloped film. On top of the desk itself was a scattered pile of coffee stained worksheets, a pot of paperclips and a battered old typewriter that had definitely seen better days. Ink was even leaking out of the bottom of it, staining a folder that had been placed next to it.

Sherry went and clambered on top of the chest, the top of which sunk in slightly from her weight. Leaning back against the wall, she sighed woefully. She really didn't know what to do with herself. Where should she go next? That was something she couldn't figure. All she seemed to be doing was hanging around, sleeping and listening to the horror echo around in a growing crescendo.

The monsters were coming for her, and it felt like only a matter of time before her life expired.

She was so used to be alone, but right now, she wanted to cling to someone. Feel their warmth and the beat of their heart. If anything, she didn't want to die alone.

"Mom, where are you?" She softly called out into the silent room, listening to her own voice bounce back at her hollowly.

Just as the room fell silent again, a rumbling voice seemed to call out, shattering the temporary hush. She was startled, not simply by the animalistic roar, but by the voice that followed it. It called out a name.

_Her _name.

She jumped up to her feet, sweat budding in the palms of her hands. _No it can__'__t b-_

Again, it echoed behind that terrible roar. "SHERRRRRYYYYY!"

She knew she wasn't crazy. It was there, a human voice being swallowed by something beastly. It sounded much like her father's voice. She was sure of it. No obscurity could convince her otherwise.

He was in pain - such terrible pain. He needed her help.

"Daddy!" She called out, rushing for the door. She pressed against it, listening. The roars continued distantly; angry, pained, sorrowful… But his call was no longer present. Tears filled her eyes. She couldn't just stand by and let something terrible happen to him.

She rushed out the room. The corridor just beyond the stairs was silent. It seemed like nobody was around. But where did the sound come from?

Something large lurched passed by the window at the bottom of the hallway. She quickly jumped under the stairs out of sight. Cautiously, she peaked out, trying her best to remain unseen.

The thing's arm was huge, like a gnarled tree trunk. It was grotesque, the flesh like leather torn from a slaughtered bull. She'd seen something similar before, but it was hard to recall.

At the shoulder, the flesh suddenly split. From within, a bulbous yellow eye emerged. The pulsating orb looked from left to right through the window. The focus finally fell in her direction. She shot back behind the stairs, pinning herself against the wooden support.

Was this the creature after her father? What had it done with him? What was it doing at the station? Her heart pounded as she hid, frightened to move in case it caught sight of her. Long minutes passed in silence before she finally bucked up the courage to look back out towards the window.

The creature was gone.

Mouth dry, she slowly stepped out, eyes glued to the dark pane. There were no more roars, nor were their cries of her name. Swallowing back her fear, she took one tentative step at a time as she approached the dirty glass. With the hall illuminated quite brightly, she found it difficult to see much beyond the dark blanket of the outside world. As she stepped up to the ledge, she just about managed to make out shrubbery and a metal fence around the perimeter. But no monster. It had vanished into thin air.

She pressed her hand to the cold pane, staring out into the heavy night. Frightened but determined, she tried to seek out the creature - to see where it had gone, and more importantly, to see if she could see her father.

The closest of two doors down the left end the 'T' shaped corridor suddenly burst open. It banged against the wall, making Sherry jump back from the window. She tripped and fell on her rear.

Zombies were suddenly piling through in hordes. But not without reason. Their flailing arms were following a woman as she barrelled into the hallway. As her back hit the wall, she rose the gun in her hands and fired off round after round into the shambling hulks behind her. The woman was dressed modestly in a red mini-dress over a pair of dark leggings. Her obsidian-black hair was cut short, frame around her delicate but resolute face. As she back up down the corridor towards Sherry, she turned and finally noticed her as she scrambled to her feet. The gun trained on Sherry.

The woman had distinctive Chinese features - Sherry assumed she was Chinese anyway, not that it particularly mattered, it just mostly struck her how beautiful the woman was. But the woman's wide, shocked expression snapped the young woman back to the situation away from the surprise of seeing another living person. That and having a gun pointed at her.

"RUN! GET OUT OF HERE!" She shouted at Sherry, turning back toward the zombies hordes and opening fire again.

As the blood sprayed the walls, Sherry made her get away, heeding the woman's words. She wished they could have stuck together, but she would have been more of a hindrance then a help. With one last look towards the battle scene, she bolted up the nearby stairs, putting it all behind her. Only the harsh, resonating gunfire trailed after her, swallowing the pitiful moans.

She rushed up to the second floor and made a dash for the closest door. The brass handle on it was broken, but the base of it was torn away, making a hole big enough for her to fit through. She scrambled onto her hands and knees, squeezing herself through and diving into a cleaning cupboard to her right, hiding behind the mops and brooms.

The gunfire had stopped. Silence once again returned. For a long time there was nothing. There were no footsteps. No voices. No nothing. The woman didn't come to her.

Sherry was still alone.


	5. Chapter 4: The Aimless Wanderer

**Epic: The Third Survivor**

**By. Indigo Siren**

_Disclaimer: Resident Evil is __ to Capcom. I do not own any of the characters and situations depicted from the games. They are merely being used for entertainment purposes only. I do however own this story and any characters and scenarios that were not featured in the franchise. All rights reserved._

**A/N: Sorry for the delay! Had been meaning to finish this some time back - sidetracked by other things! Another shorter chapter, filling in some minor activity in the mean time.**

**Chapter 4: The Aimless Wanderer**

Coaxed out a short time later when she spied the glow of a vending machine at the far end of the narrow corridor, Sherry followed temptation into a small open waiting area, staring with a certain amount of glee toward the machine. The lock on the panel was broken so she could easily swing the front of it open. Rows of crisps, chocolate bars and various other candies welcomed her like heaven in shiny wrappers. Not much had been taken, which surprised her greatly. It was like it was offered up on a silver platter to all who passed through. Though, not everyone might have been interested in unhealthy snacks during a zombie outbreak.

Hershey's Kisses, Reese's Pieces, Almond Joy, Milky Way… She thought she might go crazy. Like a scavenger, she piled as much as she could fit into her pockets. It wasn't exactly a diet her mother would approve of, but desperate times called for desperate measures. (Though not quite so desperate when there was a whole horde of sweet treats on display.)

She was just opening one of the Hershey Bars when a terrible explosion reverberated through the station. The shock of the sound sent her sprawling onto a bench behind her. For the briefest of moments, the station shook right through to the foundations.

Then silence.

Heart palpitating with a terrified tremble, she sat glued to the seat, trying to work out where the sound had come from. It had been so loud and distinctive - but at the same time, its location was nowhere in the close vicinity. It had to have come from the other side of the station. Whatever it was, it certainly hadn't been good, she was sure of that.

Temporarily put off her chocolate, she twisted the open end closed and squeezed it into her bulging pockets. With no clear sense of direction, she headed cautiously through the door to her left. She wanted to move in the opposite direction to the explosion, just to be on the safe side.

Ahead was another empty, dismal hallway. The only real piece of scenery was a leather-covered bench above of which was a metal bar with a lonely pair of handcuffs left to dangle without purpose.

Kicking up layers of dust with the heels of her shoes, Sherry slowly ambled further down the corridor and around the corner onto a clear straight. Halfway down was a door, over which protruded a brightly painted sign reading the word 'S.T.A.R.S.'

With nothing better to do, she allowed curiosity to drag her over to test the handle. It was unlocked. Gratified, she entered.

The S.T.A.R.S team had been a big part of Raccoon City's safety and security. Though they only existed for two and a half years, in that time they'd become a country renown team, tackling high profile cases in Raccoon City and other metropolitan areas in the Arklay Mountain region. Sherry had even got to meet them a year ago when a couple of their members appeared for a talk at a safety awareness exhibition at her school. She'd been too shy to really talk to them, but had briefly made conversation with the only female member of the unit back then. She was a nice woman, who'd specifically made time to talk to her when she noticed she was sitting alone. She couldn't remember her name now, but she remembered she'd had lovely long hair. Though the last brief time she'd seen her around town, she cut it off up to her chin.

After the July incident, the unit quickly became defunct. The office showed the disarray left behind. Cardboard boxes haphazardly stacked up by each of the desks, though there was still plenty of belongings still scattered around the surfaces, most with disregard. She assumed most of the boxed items contained the possessions of the men who'd died, left forgotten in the aftermath of such a bizarre incident.

She strolled between the two desks in the middle of the room. The desk to her left was a complete shambles. Stationary strewn around even though there was a plastic holder in one corner; fishing equipment there for no apparent reason; screwed up pieces of scrap paper; a dozen empty cigarette packets; and the most eye-catching, a red leather-bound diary. She decided that the contents were not meant for her eyes and left it well alone. Above the desk on the wall to her right was a giant Bass, eyeing her sharply. It gave her the creeps, enough she had to turn away. The way its beady eye followed her. She shuddered and turned the jacket hanging up to one side. It was brown and weather beaten, with a large logo on the back reading 'Made in Heaven' with a beautiful blonde woman holding a bomb, surrounded by a multitude of explosives. Sherry liked it very much.

The desk on her right was very neat despite the cluttered state of the room. On the desk, she recognised the picture of the woman who's spoken to her all that time ago. With her was a handsome blonde-haired man, smartly dressed and with his arm slung across her shoulders. Family, friend or lover, Sherry couldn't quite work out by the pose, though they looked pretty friendly.

As she meandered around the office, she gorged on her chocolate stash. She left the empty wrappers on the edge of one of the desks as she walked up to the large radio console built into the back of the room. It emitted a low, soulless static. It wasn't working.

The desk to the left of the radio belonged to the teams' medic. Most of the supplies had already been snatched, though she managed to find a first aid box that had fallen down the back of the desk and snatched out the plasters, topical cream, bandages and a large first aid spray. She never knew when she might need medical supplies.

The other side of the office was a little less fruitful. Clips for a gun were sat on the end desk, but she didn't need them (nor could she use them anyway). The Captain's desk at the top was completely trashed, covered with piles and piles of crumpled paperwork, disorganised and coffee stained. Someone had scrawled graffiti over the entire surface, including words that made her eyes bulged - the kind of words that would have made her parents slap her in the face for saying.

She moved around the back of the desk to admire the trophy collection on the shelf and the mounted awards screwed into the wall. Just in front of her on the wall was a photo behind glass of the S.T.A.R.S team, posing for a group photo in front of their helicopter. Each unique face with their own cheerful smiles, unaware of the bleak future. Those who still lived would look upon the picture as a lost memory of good times.

A shrill whir and a clunk sent her spinning on her heel. The sound echoed loudly around the empty office. She stared sheepishly at the fax machine that has suddenly come to life, spitting out papers onto its bottom tray. After a few minutes, it fell silent again, its duty done - then, Sherry wandered over to it and retrieved the two piece of paper distributed from the machine.

_**Recipient: Raccoon City Police Department, Departments 01 - 06.**_

_**RE: EVACUATION POINT**_

_**Please be aware, the evacuation point at St. Michael's Clock Tower has now been abandoned after unforeseen circumstances. We recommend that you remain or switch to one of the following places:-**_

_**The Raccoon City Police Department**_

_**Raccoon City Town Hall**_

_**Raccoon City Zoo**_

_**The Apple Inn**_

_**Raccoon City General Hospital**_

_**Raccoon City University**_

_**The Raccoon City To Stone Ville Subway Station**_

_**The Arklay Mountains Ranger Post No. 2**_

_**Please take caution when moving between locations in central Raccoon, as this area is the most populated by the infected.**_

_**Good luck to you,**_

_**Sergeant J. S. Carver**_

Sherry shook her head sadly. The police station was not a safe place to be. The person who sent this seemed to have no clue how bad certain areas were. Though, the more she thought about it, it seemed like all of Raccoon City was a no go zone.

Having wolfed down most of the food in her possession, she had room to fold the paper into her pocket. She didn't know if she'd need the information for later, but it was best to keep it on hand.

With no more interest in the S.T.A.R.S office, Sherry decided to move on and see what else she could find in the abandoned areas of the station.

She stepped out into the corridor, a little bit of confidence in her step. Her quiet reprieve and dose of sugar had certainly perked her up…

… Though that was quickly shattered as a guttural moan echoed a very paces to her right. Slowly, heart in her throat, she turned up to stare wide eyed at a tall, zombie policeman looming like a shadow of death.

The previously empty corridor suddenly felt extremely crowded.

Sherry backed away in abject terror as the zombie stumbled wearily in her direction. The smell of rot from its shredded skin and muscle was repulsive, though her stomach churned more at the sight of its burst eyeball oozing out of the socket, dribbling onto its filthy shirt.

"Stay away!" She yelped pitifully. Seconds later, she was backed into a corner.

Before the panic could set in, she heard a door down the far end open. Someone else had joined them. Human or zombie, she couldn't see, but for a second, the zombie seemed distracted by a new scent. Fresher meat maybe…

"HELP ME!" Sherry screeched. The zombie drew back to her, though that split second gained was enough for her to break away from the corner and rush towards the door she'd originally used to enter. Back in the waiting area, she pinned herself to the door, quaking.

Seconds later, the sound of gunfire. She paused with surprise. _Another person! _A pitiful moan echoed as a body fell heavily to the floor. The zombie had been dealt with by the sounds of it. She clung to the door handle, tempted to go back through. Maybe it was that woman she saw before. Her heart jumped happily at the thought.

Though, seconds later, barely having caught her breath from before, a door further in opened and a figure appeared. Another cop. This time, she didn't hang around to put herself into a corner. Not acknowledging the newcomer, she ran straight for the narrow corridor, back to the broken door.

Behind her, she could have sworn the man had called out, 'Hey wait!', but she assumed it could have been a trick of the mind. She didn't want to risk being devoured and skidded onto her knees, crawling under the small gap as fast as she could, the hurried footsteps almost catching up to her.

Back out in the hall towards the stairs, she ran non-stop all the way back to the dark room, avoiding a lone female zombie hanging about in the blood splattered corridor below the stairs.

She scurried into the vents once more like a desperate mouse and retreated back into the bowels of the station.


	6. Chapter 5: Monsters Can Be Human Too

**Epic: The Third Survivor**

**By. Indigo Siren**

_Disclaimer: Resident Evil is __ to Capcom. I do not own any of the characters and situations depicted from the games. They are merely being used for entertainment purposes only. I do however own this story and any characters and scenarios that were not featured in the franchise. All rights reserved._

**A/N: Because of the content of this chapter, I had to change the rating to 'M'. Please be warned, the implied content might be unsettling to some readers. Or, it might not. Just making sure you know that its sensitive stuff.**

**Chapter 5: Monsters Can Be Human Too**

She knew she was being chased. It became clearly obvious very quickly.

The creature Sherry had seen a few times before, appeared once again. It was outside one of the corridors on the east side of the station. She'd watched it from the vent, stalking the perimeter, wondering what it was and what it was doing. Then suddenly, that grotesque eye buried into its shoulder look directly at her. Though obscured inside a tiny vent, it had seen her - sniffed her out almost. Its keen eye had visually torn away glass, brick and metal to find her.

At first, she didn't want to believe it was after her, but it completely ignored the roaming zombies as it smashed apart the glass, roaring at the small vent opening within a few feet of it. The eye was completely focused on her.

Sherry scrambled as fast as she could down the vent, ignoring the inhuman wails that chased her fleeing form.

After some time, the sound faded - and soon, it was gone completely.

She'd managed to escape.

Thoroughly exhausted, she collapsed where she knelt, curling up into a tiny ball. She didn't know exactly where she was right then, but wherever it was, it wasn't where that horrible monster was.

Some time later, a new sound assaulted her ears. Something quite heart wrenching.

The distinctive sob of a terrified woman.

She slowly got back up to her knees, listening carefully to the sound - and slowly but surely, she followed its direction. The further she crawled, the louder the weeping grew - the mournful echo it created reverberating hollowly off the walls of the steel vent.

Had this woman meant for her to hear her crying? Or was it just fate that she caught the sound trailing its way from the depths of the station, listening in on something quite personal.

Curious, Sherry followed the sound to its origins, her body trembling as she sensed something foreboding in the air. As she turned the corner, she saw light streaming in through a narrow vent ahead of her. This was where the miserable weeping was coming from.

A man's voice broke over the sound, booming in an explosive manner

"STOP THAT SNIVELLING! YOU DON'T KNOW HOW _IRRITATING _THAT IS!!"

Sherry recoiled when the ferocious shout roared around her. Swallowing back in a heavy lump in her throat, she eventually found the courage to look through the grill down into the room below.

Under the hue of candle lit bulbs, the room before her - with its shelves of trophies and its range of taxidermy beasts - was a sight to behold. Not quite what she'd expected in a police station. The décor was sublime - antique-like - very expensive by her guess. From the chandelier to the grand red rug, every object fit perfectly in this secret palace. But even in such a grand room, not all was so wonderful.

In the middle of the room, sprawled across the surface of a marble topped table, was a woman. The source of the weeping.

It took a moment for Sherry to realise it was the Mayor's daughter. She was shakily arranging the skirt of her dress, her fingers weakly tugging at the light material. Floods of tears streamed relentlessly down her pale cheeks. Though she'd stopped sobbing quite so loudly, there was still a muffled whimper stemming from between her lips.

Sherry's eyes were fixed to her, startled. The woman's predicament was not a good one. The fact that she was trying to cover up her exposed private parts said more then she needed to know. Her lacy, white panties were strewn some way from her feet; though, she didn't seem to dare to pick them up.

Footsteps inside the room denoted the presence of the other occupant lingering out of her line of sight. Sherry had to skid back slightly so she could see exactly where he was. The plump figure turned away from a collection of taxidermy birds to face the cowering woman across the way.

Sherry's blood ran cold.

Police Chief Irons casually zipped up the flies of his pants, having seemingly forgotten to do so before, and gathered up a standard issue pistol from his disorganised desk. He slowly approached the woman, who'd managed to feebly reorganise herself the best she could. The minute her eyes saw the gun, she shrunk back around the table, trying to put one of the large chairs tucked under it, in between them.

His eyes narrowed darkly, anger creeping into them. "What's wrong with you, girl? I gave you what you wanted, didn't I?" Her eyes widened with horror in response. Above the scene, Sherry's widened as well.

Irons stalked up to the table, brandishing the gun with authority. "You ungrateful, bitch! Prancing around in your pretty little dress, flaunting yourself like a damsel needing to be rescued! You were BEGGING to be ravished! Anyone of those desperate men could have had you, but it was ME, not them! I saw you swooning into their arms, begging to be held!" His face turned so red, it looked like it might explode. "How _dare you _take advantage of me, you filthy whore!"

"No, no, you've got it all wrong…" She wept pitifully, trying to rake back the long, blonde tresses sticking to her tear stricken face.

Irons ignored her, instead turning to pick up the discarded panties that had landed next to his trophy cabinet. He lifted them up, dangling them out in front of them. He clucked his tongue, shaking his head with disappointment. "And here I thought you were a sweet girl. But you're just as simple-minded and selfish as your father." He waved the gun at her, the rage taking over again. "Your father couldn't face up to what happened to the town. He abandoned ship the second the going got tough! What kind of leader does that, hmm? He never had any REAL control over Raccoon City." He shook his head critically. "No, he was too naïve to be under Umbrella's thumb," he said, turning away, speaking more to himself then to the cowering woman. "They were the ones that pulled all the strings. They had all the power here." Irons locked eyes with her again, glaring at her with disdain. "You know, they were going to help me obtain your father's position. What do you think of that?" She couldn't answer, only quake before the barrel of his gun. "I knew everything that was going on in this town. I was so close to having it all; then Umbrella ruined it all! I trusted them, and they screwed me over! They ruined my precious city!"

He stomped away from her, temporarily overcome with disgust and resentfulness. The man was a caged lion, pacing from one end to the other, frustrated to no end. He was caught up in his own thoughts, for a moment disregarding his 'prey' still glued to the same spot. Eventually, he stalked around the table back to her, gun back on her again.

"But you know whose fault it really is? Your father's!" He jabbed his finger towards her chest. "Mayor. Fucking. Warren's." He made sure to stab each word hard against her porcelain skin.

"No… No, it isn't…"

He roughly pushed the chair out of the way, and she started to scramble, but his chubby hand quickly snatched a fist full of her flaxen mane, yanking her against him, pressing the barrel of the gun between her lips. She stood frozen, the tears streaming faster then before. He was the only thing keeping her on her feet.

"If I'd have been Mayor, I'd have never let his happen! Your father tried to turn a blind eye to Umbrella, pretending he didn't know the kind of influence they had in the town. He was too caught up in his own world, absorbed by his own meagre power to pay it much attention. Of course, he had no idea what Umbrella was really up to - he didn't have a fucking clue." He laughed a humourless laugh, shaking her in the process. "Where's your stupid father now, girl?! Which hole has he crawled into?! I'd bet all the money in the world the coward is already half way to Calcutta!"

She whimpered, pleading with her eyes to stop the abuse. He pushed her hard back against the table, eliciting a muffled scream from her as the hard marble jammed against her spine.

"WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT YOUR SNIVELLING?!" She immediately fell silent, fearing for her life. He was a ticking time bomb waiting to go off.

He dragged the gun barrel down her chest, pressing the cold metal between the valley of her breasts. "Seeing as your father is not here, I've decided YOU are going to take the brunt of his punishment." The barrel moved further down, over her voluptuous curves, down past her stomach to press over her most private region. She went rigid. "I wish your daddy dearest knew what you'd been up to - seen just what I did to you. But what I'd want more is for him to see us right now." He yanked up her skirt forcefully, almost tearing the flimsy material between his calloused fingers. She tried to stop him, but received a vicious backhand across the face for her troubles. He pressed the cold barrel of the gun up between her thighs. "You know I have nothing to lose now," he whispered ominously. "Everything I really treasured has been destroyed."

For the longest moment, they stayed in that position - gun infringing on her most intimate of regions. Was he going to destroy her in the most callous of ways? Both Sherry and the woman under threat wouldn't have put it past him. The way his eyes burned like hellfire, so determined to inflict pain and suffering on her.

Her breaths came slow and shallow; she was afraid to move too much in case he pulled the trigger. She peered at him through red, swollen eyes, waiting for his next move on sharp tender hooks.

Suddenly, he pulled away. She hit the carpet with a heavy thud. He walked up to his desk and simply turned to stare at his assortment of taxidermy once more. Bull, deer, birds… Their beady lifeless eyes gazed into his as he scrutinised them quietly.

The Mayor's daughter smoothed her skirt back down, trembling right down to her dark high heels. She quietly stepped away from the table, staring at the large man's back, waiting like a frightened rabbit caught in the headlights.

It was a long moment bathed in silence. A waiting game in any sense. There were both trapped in the realm of his madness.

Eventually, Irons turned and glanced at her, this time, evenly. "We're in quite the predicament, you and I." He took a long deep sigh before standing up straight, full of determination. "I'll help you, my dear. Only if you promise me one thing. That you'll never tell of what happened here. Its our little secret, you understand?"

She nodded frantically. "Yes, yes. I promise!"

"Good." He seemed restored to some level of happiness. A smile spread across his face. "I'll help you most kindly, my dear. Help you to avoid becoming one of those mindless zombies. I'll help you stay beautiful forever."

It was a wistful second. A second where everything seemed okay. Where everything seemed to be going right for the beautiful Mayor's daughter. But it only lasted a second. She was somewhat confused by his final words, but the next motion had her gaping in horror.

He raised the gun and fired.

Her scream ripped through the room like an explosion. Sherry slammed her hands over her ears to drown out the horrific sound. Tears pricked her eyes, clouding her vision.

The bullet tore her flesh like paper, and the blood from the wound exploded like a fine mist, lingering in the air for long seconds. Her beautiful white dress was torn and stained, fluttering around her like a blemished canvas as she fell backwards onto the table.

But Irons was suddenly there, yanking her up. "Not on the marble, you fool! I don't have time to be polishing away blood stains!" He lifted her into his arms, cradling her trembling form as if holding a newborn. "You're too careless," he admonished, his voice strangely fatherly all of a sudden. "Lets lay you on the desk. Nobody is going to care if I stain a few bits of paperwork. Whose going to read them anyway?"

He carried her across the room proudly, ignoring her convulsions and gasping cries of sorrow.

"If you're going to die," he bizarrely instructed, "you have to die beautifully to befit your radiance. I would have let you have the marble, but its just too expensive for you…"

Sherry watched the eerie scene as he jovially laid her down on his desk. He took time and care to arrange her in a perfect manner there, even moving her hair to drape over one side.

All the while, her eyes darted around in pain, each breath laced with pain and desperation.

After he was done, Irons sunk down in the large, leather chair behind the desk - and there, he sat and waited.

Her words were small, but they were very clear, enough that Sherry could even distinguish the words on her lips. "Help me… Please… Don't let me die." But he ignored her, instead, admiring her with pleasure, watching the blood stain grow on her dress as each breath grew weaker and weaker.

"So beautiful," he muttered, "you'll be a perfect addition to my collection."

Sherry wiped the tears from her eyes, watching with haunted eyes at the quiet scene - watching those final shallow breaths of a dying woman before she became frozen forever. Gently, Irons closed her eyes.

With a creak, he reclined back in his chair, looking over at the panties still clutched in his hand. He lifted the delicate cloth to his face, inhaling the scent from them. After a long sigh, he opened a drawer and stuffed them inside, turning his chair away from the woman he'd just murdered.

That's when Sherry scuttled away, sick to her stomach.

_That poor woman, _she lamented. She wished she could have saved her from his freakish desires. The man was beyond insane.

She had vague memories of Irons before this whole freakish incident. Years ago, she'd been sick from school and there was nobody able to look after her, so in the end her parents had had to take her with them into work. She'd slept on the couch in her father's office, the one and only place she was allowed to go to at Umbrella's offices in Raccoon City. She knew her father worked in a lab, but she'd never seen them, nor was she allowed to.

As she'd been drifting in and out of sleep, she'd seen Irons arrive at the office. He was discussing things wildly with her father. 'MINE! ME! I WANT!' Those were the words she remembered mostly spilling out of his lips. He was all about himself, even a little girl could tell that.

He was a diabolical schemer it seemed - but what did he have to do with Umbrella? What did he mean they had screwed him over? Did he have some sort of deal with them? Sherry couldn't answer such questions. Something was very odd about him prattling on in regards to Umbrella's influence over the city. It was too much for her to understand.

Were her parents involved in sly dealings? She furiously shook her head. _No, I won't believe that! _She wondered if Irons just wanted to cause trouble for Umbrella. That seemed a more likely scenario to her.

She reached a dead end in the ventilation system. Just before it was a single vent - it led out into a dimly lit corridor. She didn't feel like crawling back past Iron's room, so decided to climb out and see where it led her.

It took her a little while and a bit of ingenuity to loosen the vent, but she finally succeeded and pulled it off. Still quaking from the scene she'd just witnessed, she slipped out of the vent, dropping to her knees on the carpeted floor.

The building suddenly seemed to tremble for a moment. A brief, passable feeling. She froze though when she heard a very distant cry.

Again, it sounded like someone was calling her name.

She listened out carefully, not making a single sound in case she missed it again. But she didn't - there was no more call. Things fell silent once again.

Sherry got to her feet, brushing down her knees. The narrow hallway had two exits - one at the far end next to a creepy looking tiger eyeballing her from the corner, and one that was closer to her position. She had a feeling if she took the far door next to the tiger, she'd end up in the clutches of the insane Chief Irons, so decided instead to take the one closest to her instead.

The room she entered was only lit by a number of small lights adorning two large, central display cabinets. Even in the gloomy light she found herself awe astounded by the contents of the room. It was like a treasure trove of art and history - a tiny, compacted museum hidden away from the eyes of world. The multitude of cabinets around the room held pots, plates and cups that could had to have been many hundreds of years old. The middle displays had an arrangement of statues from a selection of eras she didn't even know of. As she circumnavigated the room in awe, she felt her eyes locked on a glass front that contained a rare selection of Egyptian artefacts. Painted eyes fixed her eyes, drawing her in.

She hadn't been to a museum in a long time, and felt exceptionally privileged to be looking at these precious items. Were they things left behind by accident when the building changed from museum and gallery to police station, or did the Chief have his own private collection?

_Policeman aren't paid that much, are they?_

The door she'd entered before suddenly opened. Luckily, she was out of sight behind a cabinet further into the room.

_Oh no, its him! _She backed up against the back wall, searching quickly for an escape route. There was a side room to her left - without further deliberation, she scurried inside into the awaiting darkness. She could hear the footsteps circumnavigate the other room as she rushed down to the other end of the junk filled room, reaching a dead end.

Panicking, she crouched down between a chest and an antique chair. She prayed that the darkness would protect her.

They was a long, tentative pause. The silence became so thick it was choking. She knew someone was out there in the other room. She could picture Irons in her mind, having sniffed her out like a bloodhound, gun twitching in his hand, eager to blow her to pieces. She hoped they'd just grow bored and leave again.

The footsteps restarted, each one slow and careful. The dull thump they reverberated felt like they were going right through her, leaving a tingling sensation inside her chest.

In the shallow light of the door frame, a figure entered. Sherry pressed herself against the wall, hands pressed over her mouth.

The figure was fairly tall and sleek, and most definitely feminine. A part of her was relieved it wasn't Irons. But who on Earth was it then?

The figure moved forward and picked something up from a table in front of them. They scrutinised the object for a moment before tucking it into a small pack. They turned and headed back to the opening.

_They're leaving! Thank G-_

The room lit up in a flash of light, temporarily blinding Sherry. She squinted, pressing her hands up to her eyes, rubbing them furiously, praying they would quickly adjust to the brightness. Spots danced in her eyes as she looked up blinking, stricken with horror towards the figure by the doorway.


	7. Chapter 6: A New Friend

**Epic: The Third Survivor**

**By. Indigo Siren**

_Disclaimer: Resident Evil is __ to Capcom. I do not own any of the characters and situations depicted from the games. They are merely being used for entertainment purposes only. I do however own this story and any characters and scenarios that were not featured in the franchise. All rights reserved._

**A/N: Its been a while since I've updated this story. I do apologise. It did take me a while to compile the chapter and I did end up cutting a section out. Also I had the dreaded writer's block stopping me from carrying on. This should be a chapter with familiar elements, as from here on in, the story and the game should be tying closer together. Anyway, on with the show!**

**Chapter 6: A New Friend**

Fear exploded like a bomb inside her franticly beating heart, surfacing in rapid succession.

Both zombie and human could be a potential enemy; after seeing what Irons had just done to the Mayor's daughter, trust wasn't something she could even consider in those desperate seconds.

Shrieking in fright, she raced for the doorway. Through bleary eyes, it suddenly seemed so far away, as if the corridor had stretched to a million miles long. No matter how hard she pounded her legs, she couldn't seem to cover the distance. She was moving at snail pace.

She veered herself around the other person blindly, hoping and praying her small height would work to her advantage.

Unfortunately for her, it wasn't. Mere paces from escape, a hand latched onto her arm.

She was spun mid-step, jolted a complete stop. Fear driven, she latched her other hand around the wrist, digging her nails in as she furiously tried to pull herself free from the hold.

"Let me go!" She screeched, thrashing about with what little strength she had.

"Hey, easy, easy! I'm _not_ a zombie!" The angelic voice that reached her ears was warm and assuring. It took all her courage to glance up to take in the face of the young woman, finding herself suddenly ceasing her violent thrashing as she was overwhelmed by a beautiful and delicate smile. There was nothing in the least threatening about this woman. Though built nimbly and powerful, she never once appeared imposing. She realised the hand gripping her little arm was not as rough as she first thought it to be. "You're safe now, I promise."

Hearing those protective words, Sherry wept openly, falling into the arms of the young woman without further worry. In gentle response, the woman stroked her short hair, whispering soothing words into her ears.

She was a God send. Living, breathing, warm, strong… It was what Sherry was missing. The beating of another human heart.

After a quiet moment, the woman removed something from her pocket. A police issue handheld radio. She lifted it close to her mouth, pressing to send an outbound message.

"Leon, come in. I've found the girl."

Sherry looked up at her with surprise, her mind buzzing with questions. When had she been looking for her? How did she know she was there? When had their paths crossed? How long had she been hanging around the station? She couldn't answer any of them.

In all her time in the station, she hadn't recalled seeing this woman - she was too distinctive to forget, with her short pink leathers and supermodel looks. Though in hindsight, she was hiding most of the time, and might have missed her completely. She stared up at the woman as she continued to talk to her companion over the radio. She had a strong, unwavering voice, determined blue eyes and lovely auburn hair tied up tightly in a ponytail, so soft-looking Sherry was envious. She felt like a dirty little street rat, quickly embarrassed for throwing herself all over this young woman in her horribly stained clothes she'd been stuck in since arriving at the station seemingly a lifetime ago.

When the transmission ended, the young woman knelt down in front of her, resting her gloved hands on her small shoulders. "My name's Claire. What's yours?"

_Claire, what a nice name… _She clasped her hands behind her back, shyly staring down at her feet when their eyes met. "Sherry."

"Do you know where your parents are, Sherry?"

She opened and closed her mouth. She didn't exactly know where they were, but she figured that they'd probably be at their place of work, as they always were.

"They both work at the Umbrella chemical plant at the city limits. I think they might be there…" Though, she suddenly thought about her father and the mysterious voice she'd heard calling to her and suddenly felt uncertain.

Claire was extremely surprised. "The chemical plant?! Then what are you doing here?"

"My mom called and told me to come here. It was too dangerous to stay at home."

"She was right. But its not safe here either. I think you'd better stick with me."

It was such a relief to find an ally after so long left on her own. But the feeling was swept away when she suddenly thought about that monster stalking the station, and how intent it had been on finding her. The thought of getting someone else mixed up in her own problems seemed a little cruel.

"But… There's something out there. I don't know what it is, but I saw it! Its much bigger then any of those zombies, and its coming after _me_!"

Claire wasn't given the chance to question further as monstrous yell ruined the moment, the echo violently ripping through the room and their frightened bodies. Sherry jumped back in horror, wondering where the sound had come from. It had been too close for comfort.

Claire was back on her feet again, a gun suddenly in her hand. "What was that?!"

"That's what I was telling you about! Its here!" Sherry had no intention of sticking around to see what happened to the both of them, and decided to make a run for it, to return to the safety of the ventilation system.

"Sherry wait!" The call was wasted on her fleeing form. She blindly headed back into the outer corridor between the mini museum and Irons office and hopped up back into the vent, scurrying away like a little mouse.

She followed the vent back around, not considering anything else but getting to the darkest corner in the system and staying there. If she'd taken notice of things going on around her, she'd have noticed that in the chief's office that Irons was gone - and so was the body.

Scrambling with fright, it was hard to avoid making too much noise with her hands and knees pounding against the vent. The booming it made only pushed her to move faster.

Where was the monster now? Was it close? Where exactly had she ended up anyway? She'd barely spared a second glance to see where she was crawling, lacking the confidence to glance out one of the many vent covers. She just kept on going.

She wanted to be comforted and supported by someone like Claire, but she couldn't risk someone else's life if the monster was after her. She tried to blink back the tears suddenly clouding her vision while at the same time struggling to ignore the loneliness throbbing through her body. Temporarily blinded, she barely had time to react when she put her hand down and felt nothing believe. Propelled forward by her scurrying, there was no way she could stop herself from suddenly falling down the square hole that had appeared out before her. Stifling a yelp, she went head over heels into the darkness of the shaft, bouncing off wall to wall like a pinball before coming to a thudding halt at the bottom.

For a long, quiet moment, she was left there in a crumpled daze, her vision dancing with white spots until she blinked them away. Bruised and exhausted, she didn't move, waiting for the aching across her body to relent somewhat before she even attempted to get up.

Testing first her fingers and toes, she slowly began to check each limb individually to see how they functioned. Besides feeling sore, she had no broken bones - if anything, she'd probably start turning purple all over from bruising. Twisting herself carefully around in the narrow space, she got back onto her hands and knees, scrunching her face up as a shot of pain arched up her back.

_Serves you right, _she inwardly whispered, scolding her own stupidity.

Cloaked in the quiet of the shadows in this new area of the ventilation system, she was distinctively calm and collected, able to think with crystal clear lucidity and without too much unease.

Firstly, she had to find out where she'd ended up, not that she could immediately tell. Every vent looked just like another. The temperature was mild - a lot more chilly then a lot of areas she'd crawled through. Both directions, upon her examination, were found to be dead ends, though not too far down to the right was a small vent cover, just her size, allowing a filtered stream of gloomy light into the confined space.

She slid herself over to the lined cover to peek out through the small gaps. Solid, grey concrete walls everywhere the eyes could see. A bare whisper of light made the murky surroundings even more ominous. Directly ahead of her, the corridor turned off to the left and stopped at a door in the right wall; the sign next to it read: 'Parking'.

The car park, as she knew, was situated underground. Shockingly, her tumble had dropped her right into the basement area of the station, but thankfully - besides the nicely forming bruises - she was still in one piece.

With subdued lighting and a limited view from her peep hole, there was not all that much to see. She didn't particularly like the idea of getting out to look around, but there was little else to do then just that.

But what then? That was the real question that plagued the poor, unfortunate girl. She didn't exactly have a plan to follow, something to cling onto that could offer her some stability. She could hide, she could fight, she could escape, or she could wait for something to happen…

Gritting her teeth with nervy resolve, she took hold of the vent cover and gave it a good shove. The rusty bolts rattled with response - an indication that with a bit of aggression, she could knock it open.

Swivelling rather awkwardly in the right space, she placed her feet on the vent cover and with one swift kick after another, started to pound away on the weak bolts. Quicker then expected, the cover fell to the floor with a loud clang. The reverberating sound echoed like a metallic chime up and down the corridor.

Sherry froze, the hairs on the back suddenly up and alert.

The deathly quiet that followed brought a thick lump to her throat. It took her all her time to swallow if as she waited with baited breath to see if anything responded to her unintentional racket.

She wait for the longest time; waited for her heart to stop pounding against her ribcage; waited for something horrible to come screeching into existence. But all she got was white noise - the sound of nothing.

With timid curiosity, she finally stuck her head out into the corridor, to see for herself that it was all clear. She was mildly relieved that it was just her in the bleak, grey confines of the basement passage.

She shuffled herself out of the small vent hole and onto the grubby concrete flooring, making as little noise as possible, still fearing there could be zombies lurking close by. She stood on aching legs, wiping the dirt from her hands and knees off onto her already soiled clothes.

_What should I do now? _She pondered, biting her lip in thought. Twice now she'd abandoned potential help to continue her plight on her own. There was too much risk for someone else to be around her with that huge monster in pursuit. What terrified her the most was the knowledge that it was never too far away, lurking in the shadows, ready to pounce when she least expected it. The thought of imminent death brought a tightness to her chest and clouded her eyes with tears.

She had to keep it together, no matter how hard things got. If she had a breakdown, it would be the end for her. Squeezing her eyes shut and chanting to herself over and over that she would be fine, she just about managed to collect herself.

She had to keep going. For herself, and for her parents.

Batting away the streams of escaping tears, she headed towards the door the parking lot. A bit of exploration there (as she tried to convince herself) could ultimately help her to decide her next course of action.

_Parking means cars… Cars means transport… Transport means escape… _It sounded so cut and dry inside her head, but then again, most things sounded good in theory. She didn't know if any of the cars would actually work. Then there was the prospect that even with a car, the roads would become too hazardous to actually navigate. And of course, there was the fact she couldn't drive. (She was only twelve after all.)

Stepping through the doorway, she was met by the strong smell of gasoline. There was a huge pool of it under a battered police cruiser that had been raised up on a low ramp for repairs. As long as nobody turned up with a lit match, then the area was of no danger to her. There wasn't a single soul, alive or undead, in the vicinity.

Cars sat like sleeping beasts in their spaces, most in good condition, much to her surprise. Their owners had probably parked them there over a week ago, heading in for another day of work, not once realising they'd never drive home again.

An RPD SWAT van was parked against the back wall, one of its back doors partially open. Upon investigation, she found that the contents had been stripped out. The gun cases on the walls were completely empty; the equipment lockers had been raided, leaving one lone helmet in the middle of the floor, its visor cracked; a couple of stray bullets were left scattered across the leather seats, not a single pistol left to fire them.

As there was nothing left worth scavenging, she shut the door.

As she looked down the side of the van, she noticed it was blocking of a door in the back wall. The gap was so small, she couldn't fit down to reach it - it would have been a pointless anyway, as the gap wasn't even big enough to open the door itself.

She turned her attention back to the cars, specifically a police cruiser parked to the left. She eyed a spanner laying at the side of one of the front wheels. She was tempted to use it to break into the cruiser, but didn't like the idea of making anymore noise; and if it was alarmed, it would cause the double the trouble.

She abandoned the idea of procuring transportation. Unless she was safely inside a tank, she didn't want to risk the streets again, vehicle or no vehicle.

Backtracking out of the parking area and back to where she'd exited the vent, she followed the corridor in the opposite direction. Past two sets of doors, was a turn off to the left into a narrow passage. The second she glanced into it, she became frozen to the spot.

It had been wishful thinking to hope she'd be alone down there in the basement. Such thoughts were instantly dashed at the sight of the animal resting on the steps just down the hall.

Her blood ran cold.

The light spilling into the stairwell from the first floor above highlighted one of the former police dogs laying stretched across a concrete step, lazily snoozing as if it were like any normal dog.

It was far from it.

So emaciated, the bones jutted sharply through the paper thin skin; clumps of dried blood was caked across its body, covering up parts were the fur had thinned to near non-existence; its face was torn badly on one side of the muscle, revealing gum and skull bone infested with maggots.

Its body twitched every now and then, proving it was far from dead.

She was surprised it hadn't reacted earlier to her noisy arrival. Maybe it wasn't even there at the time? Maybe it just didn't care? Her guess was as good as any. Her goal now it was there was to avoid confrontation and get by without disturbing its slumber.

Trying to hold her breath as her body trembled uncontrollably, she skidded sideways, continuing along the corridor. Feeling somewhat relieved as she reached the other end of the corridor, she let out a quiet sigh and looked around the corner at the end.

There were a pair of steel double doors a couple of metres ahead of her, next to which was a pile of abandoned junk. Trashcans, metal tubs with broken machine parts, and even an old vacuum cleaner - a huge clunky thing straight out of the seventies.

Before she could even concern herself about was beyond those doors, her ears suddenly pricked up to a sharp sound to her far left, getting louder and louder.

_Click-click-click-click…_

Mouth dropping open in surprise, she turned to look up to corridor, just as the awaken dog walked slowly around the corner. Its jagged nails scraped the uneven flooring with menace.

Blood-tainted drool dripped from its damaged face, white headlight-like eyes glaring at her with savage hunger. No dog had ever stared at her like that before. She was frightened.

With a fierce growl, it started to charge; in the same split second, she was running, too. She covered the short distance between herself and the doors in the blink of an eye. Thankfully, they were unlocked, but they were heavy to open. It took all her strength and determination to get one open enough to slip through just as the dog rounded the corner at full pelt. The weight of its body slamming against the steel knocked her over and closed the door behind her with a heavy bang.

Looking up over her shoulder, she could hear the undead beast clawing at the partition to no avail. She was safe for now.

Ignoring the barking, she picked herself up to find she was in a small alley. It was a tight narrow pathway leading past a zigzag of pipes snaking like veins up along the side of the station. A light breeze cascaded over her from above - she could see overhead a walkway fenced off where a streetlamp stood, subtly illuminating the area she was in. She guessed she was just below the back end of the station.

She had no intentions of hanging about there long, remembering quite clearly that her 'pursuer' had made a habit of patrolling around the station grounds. She moved on quickly, finding herself at a dead end with an open manhole cover.

With no other option to take, she hesitantly climbed down the ladder imbedded there.

The area below was deserted, much to her relief.

Jutting steel walls lined the rather grim array, which was in a state of a disarray from what she could see. The place seemed to be under construction - partitions and whatnot were covered with plastic tarps and thick white canvas sheets. In contrast to other areas she had been, this narrow little place was ghostly. The walkway was uneven, covered with bits of debris - rocks, broken glass, wood shavings and mounds of what appeared to be soil clumped together. She had to be careful where she trod.

Though she knew she was walking somewhere below the police station, she couldn't exactly be too sure where she'd ended up. In the end, it didn't really matter - as long as she could make a safe escape, it could have been the opening to a cesspit for all she cared.

She followed the short path around, suddenly finding herself stopping dead as she reached a turning. A dead end lay ahead of her. In a corner, buried amongst the dirt with stray pieces of wood was a small sign. She unearthed it by brushing the layers of grit from the top of it.

'_SEWAGE PLANT - PRIVATE PROPERTY: KEEP OUT'_

Halfway up the concrete wall at the end, was a chainlike fence - a small section of which was bent out and torn open - just big enough for a child to get through. If she jumped just high enough she could get through. The moment she contemplated this, a pained cry cut straight through her thoughts and echoed throughout the confined area. It didn't sound too far away.

"_SHERRRRRRRY!"_

The surprise landed her on rear unceremoniously as she tripped back over a piece of piping protruding from the floor. She barely reacted to the pain, suddenly overwhelmed with a renewed sense of hope - and at the same time, a sense of dread.

The voice sounded a lot like her father's - and from the sounds of it, he was in trouble.

"Daddy?" She croakily called out, not realising how dry her mouth was. Picking herself up, she stared up at the hole in the fence again. She just knew it had come from through there.

Something crunched around the corner. Hoping and praying it could be her mother, she stepped back out.

_They've come back for me! I knew they would!_

But she would be cruelly disappointed. It wasn't her mother.

She wasn't unhappy to see Claire again, in fact, she was more then glad to know that she was still in one piece. But in her heart, she just wanted to see her parents again, even if only for a short while. Anything to tell her they were okay.

The young girl gaped at the biker chick, who just seemed surprised to have found her where she had.

"Sherry, I've been looking everywhere for you," the older woman said with a sigh of relief. "I was so worried. Are you okay?"

She nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Claire offered her hand to her. "Listen, we've got to go now, honey. If we stay here, that monster will find us. Let's go, okay?"

Sherry turned back to the fence and then back to Claire. "No, I won't." She wasn't trying to be difficult, even if her tone sounded someone childish. She was sick with worry about her parents. Her father's pained voice rang inside her ear as a sickening reminder to the terrible situation they were far from escaping.

Claire was momentarily taken back, but just smiled indifferently, rather amused by the defiance. "What's the matter? Don't you trust me?"

She shook her head. "Its not that, Claire. Its my daddy. I think he's over there." She pointed towards the fence. Claire's expression was somewhat dubious to this. "I heard him call my name! He must have been attacked by the monsters! I have to help him!"

It was completely stupid of her to think she could do any good against the zombies and God knows what else was out there without a single weapon to her name. But the thought of sitting back and letting her father be killed was just too much to take. Without further consideration, she ran up to partition with the fence and jumped up, just managing to catch the ledge. She pulled herself up with ease, snaking through the opening.

"No! Wait, Sherry! Don't go by yourself!" Claire reasoned behind her, but her words fell on deaf ears as the young girl dropped down to the other side. There was no way Claire could follow - the gap was just way too small for her frame.

It was a small, confined concrete area, illuminated by a dim light from above and a red standing lamp by the wall. The area was also under construction, indicated by the hazard barrier and building material strewn about the place. To her direct left was a tunnel behind a barrier, warning people off from using it. To her right past a couple of chemical drums and large plastic bottles of fuel, was a worker's elevator - a small open platform, slightly battered and rusty from use. She decided to use the elevator to get above ground. It seemed the most logical direction to where her father was.

She stepped onto the elevator, despite Claire imploring her through the fence to come back. She could just see the top of her auburn head through the hole.

With a guilty glance back, she turned to the control panel. It was simple to use. One button for up, the other for down. She didn't hesitate to hit the up button.

With a squeaky lurch, the elevator began a quick albeit rickety ascent.

Sherry had a bad feeling about what awaited her.


	8. Chapter 7: A Fool's Game

**Epic: The Third Survivor**

**By. Indigo Siren**

_Disclaimer: Resident Evil is __ to Capcom. I do not own any of the characters and situations depicted from the games. They are merely being used for entertainment purposes only. I do however own this story and any characters and scenarios that were not featured in the franchise. All rights reserved._

**A/N: For most of you who have played Resident Evil 2, I'm sure you'll recognise this part, though its slightly altered to fit the story. I hope how it turns out seems as realistic as possible - I've tried my best to make it all seem as plausible as possible.**

**Chapter 7: A Fool's Game**

The elevator came to a stop top ground in a small, cramped warehouse, teeming with aging machines, badly rusted over from use and abuse. But today they were silent - and they had probably been this way since the outbreak began. In that dimly lit store, they were nothing more then shadow makers, serving to help hide the monsters.

Sherry covered her nose against a distinctly pungent odour as it attacked her senses relentlessly. There was nothing she could do about it, after all, it was a sewage plant. She would have to swallow back the bile and trudge on, despite what her senses were horrifyingly trying to identify in the stench. Pursing her lips, she stepped off the elevator. The sound her feet made on the concrete floor was hollow and lonely. She wondered with trepidation where her father might be, and if there was anything she could do to help him.

_Could he really be in such a disgusting place like this? Was he trying to get to the police station? Did he get lost on the way? But… Was it really him I heard? I definitely heard my name being called! Who else would be calling me._

Sick to her stomach, she trod with to the open doorway of the warehouse. Out beyond was a 'T' shaped walkway over two pools filled with putrefied waste water. The junction separated the way between two different buildings. To her direct right across the top of the walkway was a squared building block with '15A' marked on a filthy yellow sign above the door - not that it told her anything to its purpose. Down at the bottom, just off the end of the 'T' walkway, was a much larger building - probably the main depot she could only assume. The sign on the building's wall wasn't readable from where she stood. The writing was just too small.

And after her observation, she found she was still as clueless as before. She would have to follow her gut instinct, not that she really thought she had much instinct for anything in this crazy environment.

Hearing a sharp grunt, she froze ridged, all thought processes stopping as her eyes scanned the grim environment. It took her time to realise that she was not alone out there on the walkway. Somewhat hidden in the shadows by the large bottom building, were two dogs, laid curled up together. She didn't need to even consider if they were 'dead' by the bones she could see protruding through their skin. She knew she had to be extra careful with these hellhounds about. It made her choice of where to go next so much easier.

Building '15A' it was.

She was surprised how quiet she was when she powered walked the short distance between the warehouse and squared building. Inside her head the footsteps were like someone pounding a drum. Before she entered the door, she cast one last gaze to the dogs, still resting where they were, and went inside.

It was a single room with no other doors. As grey and dreary as most of the places she'd come across that day - and most importantly, it was devoid of life. The purpose of the room, at a guess, was a stage of the water cleansing process by the slightly less disgusting contents in the pool in the middle of the room. It didn't look or smell quite as bad as the stuff outside, but it was still an unpleasant murky brown colour - floating on top of which were a number of crates, seemingly discarded.

It was pointless for her to be there - there were no other places in there to explore. She turned towards the door, considering that she'd wasted precious seconds, when something caught her eye. A silvery glint of light. It had come from a shelf sitting on the another walkway across the room - it was completely separated from the one she was on.

Now her intrigue was stirred, she deliberated on how she might get across to see what the actual item was.

She noticed a panel not too far from her. She hadn't given it too much consideration before with her thoughts elsewhere, but she had a sneaking suspicion it was going to be of some use to her in making safe passage across.

On the face of the panel were two levers - one operated the 'filtration' system, while the other was marked to 'fill' or 'drain' the water. Without much hesitation, she pulled the latter lever down.

The drainage pipes in the walls opened up and the water flooded out, quickly disappearing to parts unknown, leaving but a thin layer of silt on the concrete walls and floor. To her disappointment, where she thought the ladder might be was only a set of bolts, twisted and bent, as if it had been torn away on purpose.

She was stumped. There was no way she could climb up to the other side from the bottom of the pool without aid; she was just much too small. The crates that had once before floating on the water surface now caught her attention, now excess on the pool bottom. They looked sturdy enough - they had to have some use.

The stairway off her platform into the pool was deep with each step. She had to carefully hop down them so not to slip of the leftover sediment. Now of all times wouldn't be good to slip over and break a leg.

Now in the pool and with a better perspective of the crates, she frustratingly realised that even if she stood on a crate from down there, she still wouldn't be able to reach the ledge on the other side. Agitation set in, and she wondered if it was really worth her time just to get a better glimpse of the shiny object.

Then it came to her.

The crates were just the right width to be pushed together to where the walkways had no railings, to form a bridge when the pool was refilled. She was light enough that the idea of crossing them wouldn't unbalance them too much.

Though, the problem now was, could she actually move them?

The crates were about as tall as she was, and nearly as wide; it didn't give her any confidence whatsoever, but she knew she had to try anyway. Rolling up her sleeves, she pressed her hands against the sodden wood of the first crate furthest from the wall - and with a deep breath, she pushed with everything she had. Much to her surprise, the crate moved; it certainly wasn't light, but not heavy enough that she couldn't get it to move. To her advantage, the slippery floor helped move things along quicker.

She pushed the first crate into the far corner, just below her intended destination. The second crate needed its position adjusting slightly before she could push it in along side the first. The third and last, which proved troublesome at first (the thick sediment under it was making for harder work), moved into the other corner slotting perfectly in to form her makeshift bridge.

Thoroughly exhausted, she slowly pulled herself back up onto the platform, wiping off the dirt on hands onto the wall, before going back over to the panel to flip the lever up, to refill the pool.

Torrents of brown water engulfed the pool once more. The crates bobbed around profusely at first, but stayed together in the same formation Sherry had put them in. Her linking of the two walkways was successful. Now all she had to do was cross without falling in. The thought of taking a dive in the grimy sent a shudder through her.

One tentative foot after another, she embarked onto the first crate, feeling it wobble only a tad under her weight, but it seemingly was able to support her quite well - just as she'd predicted. Thoroughly proud of herself, she carefully crossed over to the other side to claim her 'prize'.

The glinting item amid tools and chemical bottles turned out to be a key, the top of which was uniquely shaped like the club from a deck of cards and enamelled in green. As she turned it curiously in her hands, she found a small engraving on the other side. The letters there read: R.P.D.

_A key from the police station? What's it doing here?! _She decided to pocket it for safekeeping.

Where the key had been resting was a fold up piece of paper - it looked as if it had been torn from a notebook. It was sullied with grease and dirt, though the main body of text was still readable, all but the very top.

_[Date and first few lines unintelligible]_

_Its been pretty busy down here these last few days. More to do with the tides of people passing through then the actual workload. They all seem so interested in what we're doing. Gilbert says they're some of Umbrella's top guys and that I should keep my head down so not to draw any attention to myself. They've been in a foul mood since they got here - I heard Harry from admin was sacked for bringing one of them the coffee instead of tea._

_Word about it the company hasn't gotten pretty tetchy in the last month or so. Apparently they've ruffled a few feathers and they're under pressure to keep things ticking over perfectly so nobody can find an excuse to attack them._

_To be honest, I don't like being watched over. Its kind of irritating. Makes you feel like you're not doing your job properly. I did ask the manager if things were okay - I was worried they might be making some cut backs - but he told me everything was fine and it was routine for them to inspect the place once in a while. I've been working here in the last four years and not once has any of the top executives paid a visit to check on their worker ants._

_Though that wasn't the weirdest thing to happen. Bizarrely, the Chief of Police seems to be poking his nose about. I thought it was a rumour, until I saw him with my own eyes. He looked annoyed when I asked him if he was okay. I don't know why he got so angry over the most simple and inoffensive questions, but it took a bottle of whisky I'd brought for my brother's birthday to calm him down. He definitely looked like he needed a stiff drink. I wonder what was up with him anyway? _

_Nobody knows what he's here for, and when I brought it up with the manager, he told me to just ignore him and get on with my job. He knows something about his presence here, I'm sure of it. The chief is just acting so suspiciously its hard not to take notice of him. The guy gives me the creeps._

_The chief left a key here the last time he came. Quite a nice looking thing. I put it aside for now, just in case he comes back. I would take it back to the police station, but with the way the Chief has been acting, I'd be scared that he'd think I'd stolen it and lock me up. Besides, I don't have time for much else right now. I'm working double the hours since Oliver went off sick. He looked terrible the last time I saw him. He was sweating all the time, and it wasn't even that hot. He tried to assure me he would be okay, but he kept scratching himself a lot and coughing like his lungs were about to jump out his mouth. I'm glad he took the time off - he might get better instead of working himself to death. Instead, it'll probably be me who works myself to death._

_Larry Whitmore_

She folded the note into her pocket, a chill working its way up her spine. Just the mentioning of the police chief undid her nerves. He was a deplorable human being. What she had seen him do to the Mayor's daughter was beyond sickening. Irons was clearly deranged, but his position of power and seemingly protected him thus far. How nobody had noticed was questionable in itself. She wouldn't have been surprised if he'd left the key there on purpose to cause more trouble at the police station. His influence during the zombie siege of the station had left people bitter and desperate, cursing his name at every turn. Had Irons done things purposely so his officers would die?

Trying to shake off the thoughts, she had to get back to the matter at hand. Her father. She'd wasted precious minutes over getting the 'club key' - minutes that could ultimately spell his demise. The only plus out of the whole situation was that the key might be useful in some way to Claire.

She stepped back out of the building with great caution. She didn't want to disturb the dogs from their slumber after all. But to her surprise as she walked back towards junction heading to the other building, she found herself staring at an empty space at the bottom of the walkway.

Not a single dog in sight.

She couldn't swallow the lump in her throat.

_Where did they go… ?_

A guttural growl answered the question. The sound had echoed from within the warehouse.

Spinning around, the two rotting Dobermans re-entered the area, one slow step at a time, sniffing the sewage fragranced air, enticed by the sweet scent of fresh meat.

_RUN! _Her legs couldn't carry her fast enough. The dogs were already hot on her heels. The door at the bottom seemed so far away all of a sudden. The dogs were too fast for her to outrun.

Realising her predicament, she turned just as the first one leapt and dove towards the railing, rolling under. She just managed to grab the rail to stop herself falling into the putrid waste water. The leaping dog - instead of catching fresh meat - met a face full of concrete wall. Its head caved in on impact, like an exploding melon.

The other dog wasn't quite so stupid. It skidded to a stop as the body of its friend fell to the ground in a heap of rotting meat. It turned alone to face its prey, salivating of the meal that it wouldn't have to share. Sherry pulled herself back up to standing , eyes locked suddenly with those of the white eyed creature of the undead.

It was a stare off. Neither moved, one waiting for the other to move.

The dog growled. Sherry whimpered. It seemed quite hopeless.

Hunger won out. The dog made its move. Like a leaping stallion it bounded at her over the rail.

It almost got her. Almost.

She ducked through the bars, under its charge and threw herself onto the walkway. The canine demon flew over head and straight into the pool of sewage, sinking like a rock.

Both her hands and knees were scraped up and stingy profusely, but she hardly noticed as tried to stop herself from hyperventilating. She was waiting for the dog to rise back out of the pool and go for her again.

But it didn't. It appeared this dog had forgotten how to swim.

Trembling after fluking her way to survival, she resumed the search for her father, continuing down to the bottom building. The sign beside the door read: 'Cesspool'.

Any hope of finding her father were cut short when she opened the door. Her face fell.

It was a small junk strewn room with a closed shutter door, with no possible way to open it. Above it was a large open vent, but it was too high for a fully grown adult to get into, let alone her.

With a burst of annoyance, she kicked a shard of metal back into one of the junk piles. It knocked something down. A small container with handle, sealed up at the front with a grey cover. Curiously, she picked it up, turning it over inquisitively before pulling the cover off to look at the contents. It contained what looked like rounds for a weapon. What type of weapon used them, she didn't know, but they looked like they could be powerful.

_Maybe Claire will find them useful in some way…_

No matter how much she stared at the shutter, she wasn't going to get through. No way, no how. She sighed dejectedly and turned for the door.

Dust started falling through the open vent. Something shuffled. She turned, spying a shadowy form in the opening. Freaked out, Sherry bolted for the door, not wanting to see what came out. _CHINK! _Something snapped. That something being her pendant.

Sherry only realised this was the case when she slammed the door behind her. Pawing at the empty space on her chest, she fretted over her most precious item, but knew it was too risky to go back for it. Fighting back the tears, she ran, not wanting to hang around for another nightmarish encounter.

As she reached the middle of the central walkway, dark shadows started appearing in the sewage. Suddenly, like striking snakes, arms shot out of the water, scraping along the concrete as they tried to clutched to the pockmarked ground. Gnarled fingers were almost within inches of her ankles as she ran on, her mind trying to clock what she was seeing. From the murky dark waters, the undead rose, called up to the surface by their hunger. Their skin was a melted to ruin; eyes fish-like and blind; bodies that looked so frail that they'd break any second. They were the most tortured souls she'd seen thus far.

But her heart was far past feeling pity for these creatures. It was now all about surviving and not becoming one of them. She covered her ears to block out the howling moans as she made her way back into the warehouse and across to the elevator.

She left the zombies in their struggle to emerge from the sewage as she practically slammed the button to take her down. As she retreated back into the depths of the underground, she distinctly heard the echo of gunshots fade overhead. Was someone else there now? She didn't have the heart to go back and check.

As the elevator touched the bottom, she jumped off and rushed back to the tall fenced partition. "Claire?! Are you there?!"

"Oh, Sherry!" She was never more relieved to hear the woman's voice then she was now. At least she hadn't left. "Are you okay? Did you find your dad?"

Sherry sighed. "Yeah, I'm okay, but I didn't find him." She picked the key out of her pocket. "But I did find something for you! Here!" With a stiff pitch, the key flew through the hole to the other side. "Oh, and here's something else!" She threw the unknown rounds through the hole after the key.

"Thanks, sweetie. Now, why don't you come back over here. I want you to stay with me from now on."

Unfortunately, that wasn't going to be possible. While the other side had been more elevated so she could reach the hole, there was nothing like that on the side she was now. She was effectively stuck. She stared up at the fence, daunted, trying to figure out what she was going to do next.

"Claire, I can't reach the hole anymore. But don't worry about me, I can take care of myself!" She hoped and prayed she could anyway. "I'll find another way!" Her attention went to the tunnel to her right. Though it was suppose to be blocked off, she could easily get through the barrier. She didn't want to be alone, not that she had much choice; though, she still had the monster to think about and didn't want Claire to die because of her. She decided to deliberate those matters later. Right now, she hoped the tunnel would lead her back to the police station.

"Wait, Sherry! Come back!" But there was no arguing over the matter. Sherry was already crawling through into the darkened tunnel. "Sherry? SHERRY!!"


	9. Chapter 8: Long Lost Innocence

**Epic: The Third Survivor**

**By. Indigo Siren**

_Disclaimer: Resident Evil is __ to Capcom. I do not own any of the characters and situations depicted from the games. They are merely being used for entertainment purposes only. I do however own this story and any characters and scenarios that were not featured in the franchise. All rights reserved._

**A/N: Wow, is this story really over a year old now? How time flies without you knowing it! I must really, really apologise to you readers for the massive delay with this chapter - I just couldn't get it started. And its now taken me all my time to edit it because I've been completely overhauling everything I originally wrote in it. But I eventually got here. Finally!**

**Chapter 8: Long Lost Innocence**

From the cracks in the concrete ceiling, small grimy drops of water dribbled in onto the compacted earth below, creating a sodden gunk that Sherry's tired feet sunk into. Her breath shakily sounded off ahead of her, filling out the tunnel with a biting air of fear.

Though aching and nervous, she was somewhat gladdened that she wasn't having to walk bent over under a low ceiling as the circumference of the tunnel had quickly widened out to the point she could at least walk more comfortably. Anyone taller wouldn't have had that luxury.

At intervals, she found a singular caged off bulb strung up onto the ceiling, giving off the barest of lights, which hardly gave their presence any worth. Though luckily, she didn't have to have to do any drastic decision making as the tunnel only went straight, with any other side route blocked off by heavy debris. She had no idea where it may end up taking her.

Now in a less than favourable position, she was left contemplating her recklessness that had led her there. If only she'd stuck with Claire, at least she might have had a better idea where she was going. She promised herself from now only she would only make practical decisions. She had to remember that she was only a child; that she had even less chance of surviving her encounters with the undead.

She needed protecting by someone much more resourceful then herself. Someone like Claire.

Wrapping her arms around herself, she trudged on, trying to brave the looming shadows and the scurrying of small creatures at her feet. That was all she needed - rats…

Through the darkness, something hissed.

Sherry froze mid-step.

She was at a dark interval, neither the light in the distance or that behind illuminating much around her. Her eyes darted through the darkness, desperately searching out her enemy. The noise resonated again, sharper and clearer. It had come from above her.

She looked straight up, her reaction immediate. She screamed as she hit the dirt, narrowly avoiding being slashed by a grisly appendage.

Muddied water splattered her face and clothes. She scrambled, slipping and sliding in the dark gunk as she vied to crawl away. Just behind her, the creature dropped from the ceiling, twisting over to land on all fours.

A fearful glance back at the crouched hulking shadow gave her a distinct idea of what it was. The cry it had made jogged very unwanted memories.

Unable to get back to her feet, she had to push herself through the sludge; she felt like a worm being loomed over by a hungry bird. She wasn't going to be quick enough to escape it.

Something slimy wrapped tightly around her ankle - surprisingly, its tongue. It brought her to a sudden stop, knocking her off balance. A gasp barely escaped her lips as her cheek slapped against the cold, slushy floor. The shock of it left her dazed for a few short seconds before she quickly realised that she was being pulled backwards.

A louder hiss from the open maw of the creature sent her arms flailing about for some form of support - something she could latch onto and stop herself being dragged into oblivion - but there was only mud and grim that squelched out between her grasping fingers. She cried out despairingly, though she knew that nobody would be able to hear her, let alone come to her rescue.

Her fingers suddenly brushed something cold. A solid piece of steel. She grabbed it, its weight sturdy and somewhat reassuring. She couldn't really make out quite what it was in the gloomy light, but the shape was enough like a wrench that she didn't question otherwise.

She twisted onto her side just as she was pulled to a stop under its raising claw, mustering every ounce of energy she could to swing around the heavy tool, letting out a vigorous cry of anger as she struck the monster in the side of its skinless face.

The ferocity of her strike knocked out some of its sharp, dagger-like teeth and snapped strings of muscle in its cheek. The roar that left its mouth this time was one of agony. She struck again amid its flailing, ducking a swipe as she aimed another shot at its head. With the utmost luck, she struck it right on the top of its head - right into its exposed brain.

Her determination not to perish at the hands of this creature forced her to hit it again and again, over and over in its soft, exposed head. Flesh and brains splattered in a gory display, one which she was thankful for the shadows to obscure.

Finally, its tongue released her.

Almost immediately, she pulled back, slipping and sliding back up to her feet. Now was her chance to escape. Ignoring the creature screeching, she ran as fast as her legs could take her.

The tunnel kept on straight, and in the dim light she had to be careful not to trip over stray articles of debris and rigging. The cries drifted further and further away, telling her that the monster was not giving chase. Just yet.

The tunnel finally turned off to the left, into an opening filled with pale streams of moonlight. A ladder up to a half opened grid stood before her. The relief that swelled her chest was immense - she never thought she'd find an exit.

There was the distant sound of the undead somewhere up above, but at the moment she couldn't judge how far away they actually were.

The ladder was covered in grim and was slippery to touch. She tucked the wrench into the waist band of her shorts and with gritted teeth, made her careful ascent up to the opening above.

The opening was just above the ladder; it was going to be a tight squeeze. She gave the grate a nudge, but it barely moved. It would be too heavy to manipulate one handed and there was no way she was going to let go of the ladder.

She positioned herself on the top step, feeding her hands up onto each side of the concrete above and pulled herself up, sucking her breath in so her torso would better fit through the opening.

The area she climbed into was a small secure car park to the rear of the police station. The large shutter behind her indicated it was the entrance to the lower car park. A couple of police vehicles were left abandoned in the area, helpfully blocking off the exiting gate beyond which a gaggle of zombies were meandering waiting for their next meal. Though, she wasn't safe in the current vicinity. Two zombies, clad in stained police uniforms, stood in the security hut across the way.

They became active again once her eyes met theirs. The prospect of a fresh meal seemed to snap them out of their aimlessness.

Hand clutching the wrench at her waist for support, she ran, heading towards a door in the opposite direction. It was a shed-like cabin; it had to lead back further into the precinct grounds. Sherry quickly covered the distance and pried open the door.

Warm, stale air wafted out into her face; she was almost expectant of an attack to pour out of the dark confines with the stench of death. Flinching, she stepped back, waiting for something - if anything - to happen. When it didn't, she deemed it safe enough to enter and rushed in, slamming the door behind her.

Thoroughly spent of energy, she slumped down beside an old generator, touching her throbbing cheek for the first time. She'd only just started to notice the stinging now that the adrenaline had died down. Her ankle ached where she'd been grabbed by that creature in the tunnel, but on further inspection, it was nothing more then a red mark, which would turn into a bruise given time, as she deduced would happen to her cheek. Her injuries weren't anything to worry too much about, and the soreness would quickly pass.

She looked around to see if there was anything she could wash herself down with, but there was nothing. Only a couple of hard hats, half finished paperwork and a pornographic calendar were the rooms most notable contents. Sullenly, she tried to bat the filth from her clothes, but only proceeded to rub the muck in further.

She was decided that she was going to find Claire again, no matter how dire their situation looked. The police station was a haunted death trap closing around them, yet there was no way they could risk their lives out on the streets. It was one hell or another without many other options.

Glancing about her feet, her eyes fixed upon a broken piece of piping. She shifted onto her knees and reached out to pick it up. It was fairly heavy to hold, though her confidence with it was much more certain. She had just enough strength to lift swing it about effectively.

Getting to her feet, she tossed aside the wrench, not wanting to over burden herself with unnecessary items. She took a few light practice swings with the pipe, hoping in vain that she wouldn't have to use it.

She moved across to the other door, sticking her ear to it to see if she could hear any movement beyond. Nothing. All was quiet. But her instincts told her that she couldn't just trust her ears anymore with these things.

She opened the door a jar, peering out timidly into unknown beyond. Cursedly, it was not abandoned, and she was glad she trusted her instincts and didn't just go marching out. There were a number of zombies dotted stationary along the path. They were currently unaware of her presence as of yet.

There were four in her line of sight, and maybe more hiding around the far right turning ahead. It was just her luck the ones she could see were all stationed to one side, giving her a clear path to run. There was no other option but to take the risk. Going back was no option - it was just a path straight back onto the streets, which was a definite no go plan. The walls surrounding the path were too high and too flat to even contemplate climbing over. It was run or nothing; she prayed to God that her legs wouldn't fail her now.

She slipped quietly through the door, pausing for that extra second while their backs were turned to gather the last of her courage before she bolted like a frightened rabbit.

The patter of her feet on the stone path drew milky eyes directly towards her fleeing form.

The race was on.

Sluggish bodies wheeled around, arms instinctively raising in response as they gave chase.

The first two were easily avoided by their distance away and the fact their legs were half lame with rot. The third proved to be quite wily for a mindless creature. He'd locked onto his target and was quickly adjusting his step with each of her own to cover the distance. Sherry was forced to take a wide swerve towards the wall, slowing her pace to draw him in towards her. When it attempted to strike, she sharply ducked and dodged out of the way of its arms. It ended up knocking itself over after a collision with the wall. It had been a very narrow escape.

The fourth had almost reached her after she'd had to change her direction, but just at the right time, its lunge was cut short when its leg snapped and it fell face first into the concrete, splattering its features into the paving cracks.

She thought she'd almost got away, but as she rounded the corner, she fell right into the arms of a female zombie - a scraggily teen in cut off shirt and shorts caked with dried blood.

Giving an almost triumphant moan, the undead girl leaned in for the fatal bite-

-only to take a mouth full of metal as Sherry jabbed the pipe up into her face, snapping her head back with a forceful whack under the chin. Sherry reared back and jammed her weapon again into her foe, this time striking the mid-section with a force that knocked the zombie off her feet. The clinging grey fingers loosened, enough for Sherry to wriggle free.

Sherry jumped over the fallen body, her eyes set on the fire escape that ascended up toward the precinct's roof. She barely walked two steps when her ankle was caught in a determined grip. The female zombie was going to be so easily defeated. Sherry fell to her knees, trying to shake off the hand latched to her like a leech. The other remaining zombies were slowly gaining on her position.

Sherry pivoted her body, leaning in as she threw her full weight behind a strike with the pipe.

The zombie girl's skull smashed like porcelain, flesh splitting like overripe fruit. Her pitiful moan was cut off long before it started.

Holding in the overwhelming urge to vomit, Sherry freed herself and stumbled on. The other zombies were too close for comfort now, putting much more hungry determination into their pursuit.

Sherry reached the stairs and bounded the metal steps without looking back. She kept away from the banister in case one of them tried to grab her through the bars. At the top she needed a moment to catch her breath. Her legs were burning as if they were on fire. She couldn't run another step.

She cast a weary glance down upon her pursuers, gathering at the bottom steps like hungry lions going in for the kill. The three left were more then ready to trample over each other to get the first bite. Unfortunately, their undoing came in the form of those steel steps. For a moment, they seemed to recall how to traverse their way up them, but then - in a flash - it was gone. All comprehension and a sense of balance seemed to fail them and they fell, crumpling one on top of the other, desperately clawing to try and get back up.

Sherry didn't stick around for the rest of the show, instead she walked away as fast as her tender legs could carry her.

The top of the building was a helipad, though the only helicopter on it was imbedded in the side of the building, a smouldering black junk pile.

_Well, I guess there's no way we're flying out of here… _Giving the derelict no further thought, she headed for the door across the way.

It didn't open quite as easily as she'd hoped. She got it open enough to find that a small mountain of debris was blocking the entrance. Not discouraged, she shoved the door hard with her shoulder; with persistence, a heavy wooden beam tipped out of the way and hit the floor with a loud bang. She paused in her efforts, waiting with baited breath for something in the hallway beyond to start heading her way. When nothing sinister happened, she slipped seamlessly through the gap she'd made, wiping the sweat from her brow.

Moonlight streamed in from a huge hole in the ceiling, from which a smatter of dust and plaster still sprinkled onto the floor; concrete, wood and fibreglass matting were scattered about like artificial corpses.

Sherry didn't want to comprehend the kind of thing that could have come crashing down through the ceiling and leave such devastation. Whatever it was, it was bad news - a feeling in her gut told her so. She swallowed a heavy lump in her throat, almost not wanting to go any further, but she urged her tired feet on regardless.

Crows were sitting on frames of the shattered windows at the end of the corridor, almost like a bad omen. They scattered when they sensed movement and disappeared into the night sky. As she turned the corner, she found her shoe pressing into a puddle of blood. Immediately, she stepped back.

There were a number of bodies there - police officers and civilians. Just more victims of the horror.

She tried to avoid staring at the grisly scene, instead, focusing on taking one careful step after another over it. But her probing gaze stopped her as she glanced at the blood splattered face of a girl curled up by the skirting board.

Sherry realised she knew her the more she stared. She held her breath with shock.

Her name escaped her, but the scenes were clear. She worked in a café on Warren Street, one Sherry had frequented often to get away from the emptiness at home. The girl had been kind to her, seeming to sense her loneliness, even sneaking her a couple of free cakes going spare every so often just before they closed. She'd been chatty; a joker; she'd made her feel happy, if only for a while. And now, she was dead.

Sherry finally turned her gaze away, now fogged with tears. _Why do good people die so horribly? _She'd tried not to cry over all the innocents consumed by the nightmare, afraid her grief would swallow her whole - but the desolation of the environment was starting to really take its toll on her.

Though, she didn't have long to wallow in her misery…

A chorus of squawks echoed around her, indicating the once frightened crows had returned - this time, with cruel intentions. She turned, in time to duck an incoming attacker, their talons bared.

She pushed her legs to run, thought it hurt tremendously and she seemed to stumble the length of the windy corridors, trying to avoid her beady-eyed aggressors while avoiding tripping on the bodies littering her path.

A crow swoop, managing to bump her shoulder, enough that she tripped and fell, just managing to avoid a pile of broken glass. The pipe rolled backwards out of reach. Ignoring it, she reached for the nearest door. It was locked. Her eyes darted to the other end of the corridor. There was another door. She prayed as she ran towards it.

Flapping wings were right on her tail as she forced her legs harder, gritting her teeth through the agony. She dared not look back, but has her hand touched the door handle, her gaze caught a rush of black feathers and red eyes almost converging on her. She pulled the handle down forcefully, thankful when the door opened and she tripped through. Her hand grabbed the handle on the other side and pulled the door closed as quickly as she could. A desperate bird had tried to get through in those last seconds, but ended up being decapitated for its efforts.

She fell to her knees, pressing her head to the floor boards. She was burnt out.

_I'm so tired… How much more…? _

Behind a door diagonal to her position, loud footfalls called to her attention. The disbelief that rose in her chest was suffocating. She didn't think she had anything left to give, but when the switch flicked back on to survival mode, she agonisingly pried herself up off the floor.

She pressed her back to the wall as she quietly slid herself along past the door in front of her, images of that huge monster flashing in front of her eyes. If she was going to live, she had to keep moving, no matter what.

It took everything she had to pick up the pace, dragging herself around the far corner, to find the nose of the gutted helicopter poking through the wall at the other end. The smell of charred metal was stark, mixed in with a hint of death. She ignored it, instead, aiming herself towards a corridor that had been blasted open by the amount of damage and scorching across the walls and frames. Just as she passed through, she heard the door in the other part of the corridor burst open.

There was no stopping her now, she reached a very executive looking door at the end of the short corridor, all decked out with welcome mat and decorative lamp on the wall; it had to be an important room. Whether it was or not, didn't bother her as she hurried herself through it.

It was only when she stepped into the room she suddenly wished she hadn't.

It was Chief Iron's room.

The images of the death of the Mayor's daughter flooded her mind. The horrific execution by a mad man, who enjoyed toying with her right up until her last breath…

Sherry eyes fixed on the desk across the room.

It was a great relief to her that he was no longer there, but she wasn't ready to let her guard down just yet. He could, after all, still be close by. What surprised her most was the body that had occupied the desk was gone, too - all that was left was a blood stain on the polished wood surface.

The room had a very unsettling atmosphere, mostly brought on by the dead eyes of the taxidermy he proudly had by his desk. A shudder crept up her spine as she walked further into the room, feeling their dead eyes watching her as she went, burning their gaze into her fragile body. She turned her face from them defiantly, though goosebumps prickled her arms just for the lingering thought of them.

Almost out of nowhere, gun fire picked up - it was extremely close by. It sent poor Sherry scurrying for safety behind the chief's desk. A loud thump followed, which sent strong vibrations through the floorboards. Then there was silence, over as quickly as it had begun.

Sherry could finally breath again, if only temporarily.

New footsteps were approaching, faster and lighter ones. They were just outside again.

Sherry went into a panic, curling herself up into the smallest ball she could. Was it Chief Irons returning? Or another monster? Or…

The door opened.


	10. Chapter 9: Exit Stage Right

**Epic: The Third Survivor**

**By. Indigo Siren**

_Disclaimer: Resident Evil is __copyright__ to Capcom. I do not own any of the characters and situations depicted from the games. They are merely being used for entertainment purposes only. I do however own this story and any characters and scenarios that were not featured in the franchise. All rights reserved._

**Chapter 9: Exit Stage Right**

Sherry made herself as tiny as possible as she shuffled herself bare inches forward to peek out around the edge of the desk. She had to know what had come through the door; had to know whether she was in danger or not.

Her eyes widened.

It was Claire.

Like a lighting bolt, she was back on her feet, her heart brimming with joy. "Claire!"

She startled the other woman with her appearing out of nowhere. Her gun hand had even flinched at the ready, but she quickly calmed herself, her expression comforted by the girl's presence. She looked no worse for wear since their last encounter.

Claire crossed the room with quick strides. "Sherry! You're okay!" The relief danced from her voice, all the way up to her eyes, even sounding the slightest bit stunned. Sherry had put herself in harms way after all, so she wasn't surprised by the older woman's reaction - in fact, she couldn't blame her for thinking that she might not have seen her again.

Sherry had been lucky. VERY lucky.

"I'm glad you're safe, Claire," Sherry said softly. "I'm sorry about before."

"Don't worry about it. You were concerned about your dad." Claire's sharp gaze cast across the room, and Sherry guessed that she was wondering where Iron's had skulked off to. He was a dangerous man to have lurking in the shadows.

Claire touched her shoulder supportively. "I'm sure your dad would be proud of your selflessness," she said, "but I'm sure he'd feel pretty bad if you were really seriously hurt because of him." Sherry looked down, dejectedly. Claire gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "We need to find a way to get out of here safely."

Sherry nodded, knowing she was right. "What are we going to do now?"

Claire smiled shrewdly, and stepped around behind Iron's desk, where she came face to face with a very macabre looking painting. It was of a girl swarmed in a vortex of dark colours, looking utterly miserable - consumed by her dreary, meaningless surroundings. Claire didn't give the image a second glance as she pushed it aside on a metal track, which Sherry couldn't say she'd noticed before. In all honesty, she hadn't even noticed the painting. How Claire had discovered its little secret, she couldn't guess.

Sherry gaped as Claire revealed an old looking tablet built into the wall behind. It had elaborate Aztec patterns carved into it, and in the middle - on a diagonal line - were three square shape indents deep into it.

Claire shoved her hand into the depths of her pocket to pull out three coloured stones - red, blue and yellow - marked with detailed symbols that shared a similar design to what was depicted on the tablet. She turned a sheepish smile to Sherry.

"Heck if I know what it's all about. This place just seems to love its puzzles." Shaking her head with a sardonic chuckle, Claire began to slot in the three stones into their respective slots.

"How did you find it?"

"By complete accident. Some might say I was snooping." She fitted the last stone into its indentation, and almost immediately, something quite extraordinary happened.

The wall beside the painting suddenly opened up, spitting dust and plaster as it withdrew with a guttural rumble to reveal a secret passage. It finally stopped with a heavy clunk, leaving Sherry and Claire to look at each other with bewilderment.

_If things weren't weird enough… _Sherry thought nothing could surprise her anymore.

Claire took the initiative to check the newly revealed area first. Just beyond the threshold was a couple of scruffy pieces of paper, which she bent down to retrieve. Sherry shuffled over to the entrance, though remained just outside. Musty odours long contained tickled her nose - old smells quite pungent but indescribable.

Sherry noticed Claire's expression change abruptly in response to whatever was on the papers. From shock, to anger, to disgust and finally, to unease. Before Sherry could even ask her what she'd just read, the older woman crumpled the papers up and jammed them into her pocket, focusing instead on what was at the end of the passage.

Sherry didn't move at first, that was, until she heard the loud whir of machinery coming to life. She rushed in to see what was going on.

Claire withdrew her hand from a call button, which had brought up a very archaic looking elevator. It was a machine that had seen plenty of use, with rust collecting on its metal structuring. The cage front had a fold up gate that opened into the elevator, which Claire was now pulling back.

Who knew what waited down below - something akin to hell, maybe. Sherry was expectedly nervous. "Claire?"

The other woman had only grim determination in her eyes, though offered an assuring smile to her young companion as she tentatively approached. "I'm going down there. Stay here and wait for me, okay?"

Sherry almost wanted to argue, but it was silenced in the base of her throat when Claire touched the top of her head. There was such bravery and conviction in the heart of this woman, still a teenager herself. She was willing to risk life and limb so that they would be safe.

Sherry offered a reluctant smile as Claire turned away, stepping into the aging contraption. With one last assuring glance, Claire pulled the gate closed and hit the button to descend. The elevator groaned on its cables as it disappeared back down into the depths of the station, leaving Sherry to contemplate whether she would actually see the woman again.

She had to have faith in Claire or risk being sucked under by despair.

She tried to settle herself on the wooden floor in front of the elevator to wait for her, but it was uncomfortable, and her surroundings were grim and foreboding, with nothing to offer but cracks to count in the ashen walls and splinters in her bottom.

She took her dreary thoughts back into the office, almost admonishing herself for not being stronger or smarter. What was she really worth in this game of survival? The more she thought about it, the more she didn't like it. She was more of hindrance than a help; though she doubted a considerate person such as Claire even thought of her that way.

Sherry yawned loudly into the back of her hand. It had been a while since she'd last got her head down for a rest, and her body was aching tremendously from recent overexertion. If she was going to have to wait until Claire returned, she was going to make herself comfortable.

The desk seemed a better place than any to get comfortable. The gap where the chair usually slotted was carpeted and she would have the protection of the concealed front. She crawled under, fitting in just nicely.

She couldn't believe the smells that were coming off her clothes as she rested her face against her arms while trying to find a comfortable position. She wished she could have found something else to wear, but circumstances dictated that this wasn't the time to be worrying whether her clothes were dirty or not. Her focus instead was on the carpet and its inviting softness. Warm and somewhat relaxed, drowsiness settled over her, and with it, a blur of images - of people and places familiar. As the swimming colours took shape before her eyes, she was left with a strange sense of wonderment, fear and loneliness. Would she ever see her parents again? Would Claire be alright? Would Chief Irons come back and find her? Would she ever get out of the police station alive?

Her eyes drooped closed and every tired muscle in her body released their lingering tension. Tiredness started to rob her of her thoughts, in some ways, a blessing.

Time was almost lost to her. She kept drifting in and out of consciousness, a part of her unwilling to give up its alertness to everything going on around her. She couldn't even say how much sleep she actually got - certainly very little, but at least her body had a moments relaxation. Admittedly, she wasn't in the best position to actually bunk down and get some serious rest, but she had to steal every chance she got, and since Claire had yet to return, she turned her patience into an opportunity to recharge her batteries. And it felt better getting some sleep on a carpeted floor then squeezed into a tiny vent.

She had just been drifting back into dreamless sleep when she heard the door to the office slowly open. Her eyes shot open, fixed to the wall before her as she listened to the footsteps enter the room. Her body froze from head to toe, as if she turned into a block of ice.

As long as they didn't bend down to look under the desk, they'd never know she was there. She didn't move a muscle as she lay there, listening to the movement. Whomever had entered was taking time and care to tour the office; if anything, they'd believe the room was empty and leave again. Though who was to say whether the person who'd entered was actually her enemy? Sherry bit her lip as the footsteps converged at the side of the desk.

From her position, Sherry could just about peek out from under the desk. Her field of vision with just parallel with the opening into the secret passage. She watched a pair of sleek legs in dark leggings pass by, carrying themselves calm and confident. Not very zombie-like. But that didn't instil much hope into her. Humans could be just as deadly.

She waited as the figure finished their exploration and moved back across the office. It sounded as if they were returning to the door…

"I know you're under the desk," a smooth female voice spoke, suddenly cutting the silence like a sharp knife. Sherry's spine went rigid.

_No way… How did she know…?_

A very light chuckle, as sweet as caramel, soon came to follow when she failed to respond.

"Don't worry," she averred. "I promise on my life I won't hurt you."

Sherry hesitated on believing whether the words were a lure to draw her out were genuine enough, but she really didn't have too many choices. Either she came out, or the woman came to her. Slowly but surely, Sherry rose up to peek over the desktop.

Standing on the welcome mat, was someone who she quickly recalled in her memory. The Chinese woman in the red mini dress and dark leggings was the same one she had a brief encounter with a short time before. Had it been the same day or the day before? Sherry couldn't quite recall, but she knew it was the same woman.

What drew her attention the most was the glistening pendant hanging from her neck. Sherry's pendant.

The young girl's eyes beamed with surprise. "That's-"

The woman's hand touched the precious item against her chest. A delicate smile graced her pencil thin lips. "I saw you drop it as you ran off earlier, so I decided to hang onto it for you."

She found herself mumbling a 'thank you', her voice choked by her nervousness.

"My name is Ada," the woman introduced, stepping across the room towards her. "What's yours?"

"Sherry."

"A pleasure to meet you, Sherry," she greeted, perching herself on the front of the desk. The way she held herself was almost regal in some ways, as if she liked to give the impression that she was not only tough, but refined and dignified. Even the way she crossed her legs was given due care and attention. Though her face was soft and elegant, her eyes showed a steely will and an intelligence far beyond her years. Sherry couldn't help but feel in awe of her, and at the very same time, intimidated. She'd said she offered no harm, but that still didn't make her feel at ease with her.

The whole time Sherry was scrutinising her, Ada was taking in the room; every picture, every trophy, every piece of exquisitely handcrafted furniture - drinking it all up as if it would tell her what she needed to know.

Finally, she glanced back to Sherry. It had felt like minutes but in actuality it had only been a few seconds.

"Are you all alone up here, Sherry?" She asked.

"Well, I was with Claire… But she wanted to check something out… To see if it was safe." Not that she could really say if the Chief's office was particularly safe.

Ada nodded thoughtfully. "You should be careful. Especially in here. The Chief is not a man you can trust, despite his position."

"He's a murderer," Sherry said knowingly, ugly images threatening to resurface but she swiftly pushed them away.

Ada's didn't react. She took the words in without surprise or fear. "I wonder where the odious little man has gotten to. It just won't do to have him wandering around here unseen."

Sherry's skin crawled with the thought that he might be lurking somewhere close by, waiting for the right moment to pounce.

Ada saw the fear welling up in Sherry's eyes and immediately set to quell it with her harmonious voice. "But you shouldn't worry yourself too much. As long as you lay low and avoid drawing attention to yourself, you'll be fine."

Sherry did feel better hearing those words. _'You'll be fine.'_ The most beautiful words a frightened young girl could hear. It started to replenish her courage.

"Was that wall like that when you first came in?" Ada asked, indicating the open partition to the secret corridor.

Sherry shook her head. "No. Claire opened it with these strange stones." She turned to point to them imbedded in their rightful places on the tablet.

Ada leaned over the desk to take a closer look. "Hmm, fascinating…"

The sound that filled the room moments later was a thunderous one, caused by something crashing into the far wall, almost knocking over the large bookcase there. A number of books dislodged and fell to the floor, causalities of a mysterious assault.

Ada spun, pulling a gun from the utility belt at her waist and aiming it at the door. Sherry shrank back, trying to stifle the shriek that had risen from the base of her throat.

With an almighty crash, the door burst open, almost thrown off its hinges. Filling the opening was a form so huge its head was obscured above the frame. It was an Adonis of a man; pure bulk concealed under a dark green overcoat. It stooped its head in - a bold, grey visage with empty white eyes - and squeezed its way into the room, splintering the frame with the force of its movement.

Sherry cowered back at the sight of the giant. Ada vaulted the desk, putting herself in front of Sherry, never one taking her gun off the behemoth. She nudged Sherry's shoulder with a free hand.

"Get into the passage. Hurry!" She said in a swift but even tone.

It should have been instinctive for Sherry to run, but her legs refused to take the necessary steps to do so. Her eyes were locked on the _thing _that had just barged into the office, now taking its first, heavy steps towards them. It took a few seconds longer then it should have for something to click into place; maybe it was the advancing giant that would be on them in mere seconds or the look that Ada gave her, a look that could have a tiger fleeing down a dark hole in fear. She finally did as she was told.

The moment Sherry stepped across the threshold into the corridor, Ada turned and pried one of the stones out of the tablet. With a roar, the wall began to shut. Sherry turned in horror, rushing up only to impact against the wall as it locked back into place. She pounded her little fist against it. Thick, solid and unmovable.

"ADA! ADA!" She cried, but her voice was drown out by gun fire and breaking furniture. A fierce battle had just begun.

Sherry stepped back away from the wall and cowered down across from it, forced to listen to the debacle on the other side, unable to do anything but whimper pathetically on the floor, waiting for the wall to come crashing down or the woman on the other side die screaming as she was torn apart. What Sherry didn't expect was the sudden silence that came along. Thick and suffocating.

The fight was dragged away; footsteps retreating; gun shots echoing off into the distance. Then nothing. Just Sherry alone again.

If she could have wished herself away to somewhere else, she would of. Somewhere warm, bright, lively and with an ocean view. And maybe some ice cream, too. Somewhere where she could feel calm and safe.

She focused on that picture in her head, tried to smell the fresh ocean breeze, tried to see the golden sands that stretched out before her, sparkling like it was made from pure gold and diamonds.

But reality called her back with the loud whirring of mechanical apparatus. The elevator was returning to her level.

She picked herself up and stepped up to the gate, just as the elevator arrived top side, carrying a somewhat battered Claire. As she stepped out, Sherry was there to greet her with a hug, wrapping herself around Claire's waist. The response was a slight flinch of pain, but wholly, Claire was equally as glad to see her, resting her hands on her shoulders.

"You came back!" It wasn't as if she thought she would just abandon her, it was more to do with whether she would survive down there or not.

Claire said nothing, prompting Sherry to look up at her with contemplation. The expression on Claire's reflected uncertainty. Something was clearly bothering her.

"Claire? What's the matter?" She jarred the woman from her thoughts of unease. Noticing she'd worried her young companion, she offered a more positive smile. She shook her head, seeming to push aside her thoughts and knelt down in front of her.

"Its nothing. Listen, I think I've found a way out of here. We should be able to find someplace safe if we can just make it out of town."

Sherry thought of her parents, and even Ada. She didn't just want to leave. She felt like she'd be abandoning them. But really, what could a kid like her offer in such a tough situation? She'd survived by fluke thus far, running like a rabbit from a pack of wolves.

Sherry's brow knitted with concern. "But-"

Claire pushed aside Sherry's dishevelled fringe - an almost motherly thing to do. "Don't worry. I'll protect you, I promise. But you have to make sure you don't leave my side, okay?"

Sherry nodded. She definitely didn't feel like running off again. She needed Claire as much as she needed to breathe.

Claire carefully rose back to her feet, ignoring a twinge in her side, as she plucked the radio from her belt. "Leon, are you still there?" She called out. "We're leaving."

A tingle went up Sherry's spine. Fear, exhilaration, hope. She was finally going to leave this place.

A very sceptical reply came back to them. "Are you crazy?! The streets are _crawling_ with zombies!"

"It'll be alright. _Trust_ me." She assured. "I've found a way to the sewers. See if you can make your way there. Catch up with us later."

"What?! Claire, wa-" But Claire didn't listen to the rest of Leon's frantic reply and merely disconnected their communication. It was not up for discussion.

Claire pushed the elevator gate open and motioned for Sherry to step inside. She tentatively did so, followed by the older woman, who clanked the gate closed behind them. Claire re-pressed the button once more, and the elevator sprung to life with a metallic grunt, sending them clanking into an unhurried descent.

It went deep down, almost as if plunging into the bowels of the earth. Sherry wrung her hands, sweat budding on her palms as she waited for them to touch the bottom, which they eventually did with a hefty bump that shuddered the metalwork of the old machine.

Claire pushed the gate open.

It was almost if they'd travelled back in time. The narrow passage that wound out before them could have easily been straight out of an old European castle. The craggy walls coated in grime and moss had a very ghostly feeling about them, as if the passage was haunted with the souls who'd never been able to leave.

Sherry had barely stepped from the elevator before she crouched down, almost succumbing to a wave of fear that washed over her. What new evils lurked around the corner? Could it be ten times worse than what she'd faced in the station?

Claire reached a hand out to her, offering courage and support. _'It'll be okay.' _She could see the words in the young woman's eyes.

She trusted Claire - trusted her to keep her safe from harm. She reached out and took the awaiting hand, pulling herself back to her feet.

It was unbearably stuffy and smelt of scum, chemicals and even a hint of urine. The acidy scents hurt her nose.

Claire kept a steady but brisk pace, though showed discomfort as she held her side. Sherry could only guess the kind of battle she had to endure so that they could find safe passage through this treacherous place. Her determination to carry on despite her pain was admirable and kept Sherry following loyally, hoping to keep finding the courage to carry on.

At the corridors end, was a wooden door, framed in bolted iron with a rusting ring handle - something she could imagine as the entrance to a dungeon - especially with the burning torch next to it, lighting the corner of the corridor in a murky orange. Sherry swallowed, trying not to imagine the worst.

_It can't be that bad…_

Claire opened the door.

Sherry blanched mid-step forward.

She was VERY wrong.

There were no enemies about, but the room itself set to install a terror inside Sherry's little heart like no other.

It was a torture chamber, in all its morbid glory. A leather swathed operating table stained with blood - some old, some fresh. All kinds of tools lined the wooden shelves, some medical fare and some used by a typical workman; a few had rusted from constant use. She thought she could even still see some flesh attached to a saw.

The wall had a display of hammers, axes, and swords - instruments of death. Sick art pieces. Though not as sick as the bloody apron hanging up.

A huge mantel held a huge array of embalming materials, most neatly labelled with a sick sense of gratification. Formalin, Chloroform, Iodine - and too many others to read, though there were a fair few with unpronounceable names.

Sherry clung to Claire's arm, overwhelmed by what she had to take in. A paradise for the criminally insane. Human and animal skulls stared right through her with their empty, soulless sockets.

The room stank with the sour smell of chemicals and blood. There had been plenty of activity here as of recent, as could be confirmed by the remnants of blood in the sink to Sherry's right. She shuddered with fear and the chill that seeped through the room with icy fingers. The old fire in the corner was only stoked with ash and had gone cold long ago, so she could find no comfort there.

_This is hell… This is hell… _As disgusted as her mind was, her eyes refused to stop their merry dance across the room, absorbing everything in with morbid curiosity. Her skin crawled as she spied some blonde hair poking out of a barrel by the operating table. She recoiled, looking away, preventing her mind from conjuring the images of what she knew undoubtedly was in there.

As she stepped around, she was decided that it couldn't get any worse…

… and stopped when she came upon the gory sight mere steps ahead of them.

Police Chief Irons lay face down on the dirty floor next to a trap door, the room's only exit. The walls and floor around him were splattered with blood, having exploded from a huge gaping wound that had split him from his shoulder right down to his porky gut. The contents of his body had spilled out, floating in the pool of blood around him. His death had been a violent one.

Sherry grabbed the sink as she vomited into the bowl. Claire rubbed a hand soothingly across her back.

"I should have thrown something over him… I'm so sorry… I didn't think…"

It wasn't Claire's fault, Sherry knew that for a fact. There was a lot more to be thinking about then hiding his grisly remains. Besides, he didn't deserve the respect to be covered up. That was reserved for honourable people and not dirty, demented perverts. As horrible as his death was, she couldn't help think he deserved it. Karma maybe.

The tap rattled as she ran the water to wash her mouth out. She spat out the last sour taste of vomit and turned it off, watching the evidence wash away down the plug hole. She could have wiped her mouth on her sleeve, but it was too filthy to do so; instead, she just let the last beads of water sit on her lips as she followed after Claire towards the trapdoor, minding to step over the puddle of blood and guts.

Claire went first down the ladder, sliding with flair down to the bottom. Sherry promptly followed, not wanting to spend another second longer with the corpse of the former police chief.

The rusty metal grid walkway she stepped onto was elevated above a pool of water which flowed to and from channels in the rock face around them. Rodents were swimming in the murky green water below, hardly giving a second glance to the pair clattering along their way above them. The cold isolated cave was just as oddly placed as the dungeon-like room prior. Sherry never guessed such a place could have even existed under Raccoon City. She trudged on, intrigued albeit cautious, towards the exiting ladder at the other end. Claire took this one a bit more gingerly with having to stretch herself, her tender torso telling her to take more care.

The area above was a well lit one - a workman's passage that led out into the sewer system. The smells that rose to meet them were not particularly pleasant ones. Sherry hadn't prepared for it. Breathing through her mouth, she wanted to avoid throwing up again.

The concrete walkway ended abruptly, leaving an opening in the barrier that would allow them to step into the gulley where the sewage water flowed. It was the only way to go, as the only exiting door was a large shutter that led further into the main sewer passages.

Sherry didn't look thrilled in the least.

Claire turned to her before they stepped off the walkway. "Come on. Lets get out of here." She was just as glad to have gotten away from the station as Sherry was. She hopped in, offering a hand to her young companion to help her down.

Sherry stared down at the cold, foul liquid that rose up to her knees, but put a brave face despite it all. As long as she didn't see another zombie again, she'd happily walk through human waste.

Unexpectedly, tiny peddles fell across her shoulders and into the water around her. Claire was suddenly looking skyward, alerted to something on the upper walkway. Sherry turned to follow her gaze, the fear reigniting in her chest.

What was lurching across the walkway was a distortion of a man, more monster than human. One of its arms was humongous, a mutated trunk with a bloodshot eye that suddenly opened up from a split in its shoulder, scanning its surroundings with a sharp gaze.

This was the monster that had been stalking Sherry. Fortunately, it hadn't seen them yet.

Sherry rushed into Claire's arms, trembling. The arms that enfolded her felt like a suit of armour.

"Claire?!"

"RUN!" It was her only instruction. If it got them, they were dead.

Claire had grabbed Sherry's hand, forcing the girl to put everything she had into her legs to keep up with her as they ran towards the shutter. Claire almost broke the button on the side panel to open it, pushing Sherry through first when the gap was wide enough for her to get past. Claire raced through, seconds before the shutter slammed shut again, putting the barrier between it and them; though, they still didn't feel particularly safe.

What happened next was almost a blur. A floodgate beside Sherry's legs suddenly burst open, sucking out a torrent of water from the corridor they were in. The suction was so immense, Sherry found herself suddenly knocked off her feet and pulled down through the gap. She cried out as she was sent hurtling head of heels down a dirty waterfall. Her hands thrashed about, desperately trying to find something to grab onto to stop her fall, but there was nothing but thin air. The next thing she knew, she landed in a shallow pool of muddy water in a gloomy passage below.

She quickly staggered back to her feet, dazed but uninjured. The opening above was too far above for her to reach. There was no way she was getting back up there. She was stranded alone in the shadows by herself, up to her knees in fetid waste.

A terrified voice echoed above her. "Sherry? Where are you? Sherry!"

"Claire! I'm down here!" She called back up, but wasn't sure if she could be heard or not.

She needed to find another way back up to her. For now, she'd have to venture on alone.


	11. Chapter 10: Unfortunate Circumstances

**Epic: The Third Survivor**

**By. Indigo Siren**

_Disclaimer: Resident Evil is __copyright__ to Capcom. I do not own any of the characters and situations depicted from the games. They are merely being used for entertainment purposes only. I do however own this story and any characters and scenarios that were not featured in the franchise. All rights reserved._

**Chapter 10: Unfortunate Circumstances**

Having literally fallen into the rancid bowels of Raccoon City, Sherry assumed things couldn't get any worse. But as experience had taught her, thinking in such a way always led her straight into the arms of trouble - and trouble was usually in the form of something undead and hungry. But out of everything she'd been through during the outbreak, sloshing around in the sewers nearly knee high in food waste and bodily excretions ranked as possibly the worst situation she'd been in yet.

The stench was horrifying; like death itself. As she thought this, a pair of lifeless goldfish floated past her, almost confirming it. She cringed, clutching her hands tightly into fists. How long would she have to wonder around this festering, gloomy place?

She knew she had to stop being childish and buck it up. This was surprisingly the better alternative then trying to escape topside where the streets were swarming with zombies. Pinching her nose, she moved through the muck with trepidation, trying to focus on something that wasn't sewage.

Towards the end of the trough was a high ledge, on which was a short causeway leading down to a single steel door. A hopeful exit!

She pulled herself up onto the ledge, glad to get her feet back onto dry land.

She squelched her way along the causeway, pretending not to be bothered by the fact she had unknown swill swimming inside her shoes. Midway down, she came to a stop beside a bold, yellow sign standing out next to a small, round vent.

'**FOR THE ATTENTION OF ALL EMPLOYEES:- PLEASE DECONTAMINATE BEFORE ENTERING OFFICE AND WAREHOUSE AREAS.' **

Beneath the sign was a green button.

_Will I push it? _It didn't sound all that bad an idea. Obligingly, she did so.

A hole above her head suddenly started to spray out tepid water above her head, catching her off guard. The clear water with its almost alpine-like scent told her it was clean and pure. It took her a moments worth of gasping breaths to grow accustomed to the temperature before she set to scrub her skin, hair and clothes to remove as much of the dirt as she could. She even got chance to empty her shoes of greeny-coloured mush that had gathered in them. By the time the water cut out, her clothes were a few shades closer to clean again.

The vent by the sign suddenly came to life, releasing a welcoming breath of warm air. She rotated herself in front of it, trying to dry as much of her body as she could before it too, eventually cut off.

The process concluded, she felt phenomenally better. She was ready to face almost anything again. Sort of. She bravely headed through the steel door.

No matter what, she had two relatively straightforward goals. She needed to find her way back to Claire and try and find a way out of this unholy cesspool. And if luck was on all their sides, maybe Ada had survived her own encounter with that giant, and maybe - just maybe - she could get her pendant back. But that was a long shot, and she wasn't pushing her luck anymore than needs be.

Beyond the steel door was a stench that did no particular favours to her health. The storage room was a confined space; no windows, lack of vents - heck, not even a deodoriser or industrial fan. The smells had had years to build up, filtering in through the door and the cracks in the wall, needless to say, the smell that reached her nose was almost toxic. A combination of waste and chemicals in storage. She tried to focus on breathing calmly through her mouth as she proceeded further into the room.

Shelves lined the room into segregated pathways, each home to a plethora of different implements for working in the dirty, unpredictable sewer system. Items were all clearly labelled in and out of their boxes - florescent protective garb, hard hats, boxes of rubber gloves; there was even breathing apparatus - masks and tanks - for the more dangerous jobs. In such a grubby place, it was almost relieving to see the industrial sized containers of antibacterial soap. One of them was leaking a small pool of thick goo on the floor. The smell of it as she approached was quite relaxing, but unfortunately it couldn't override the disgusting smell lingering over the place.

Sherry passed a line of shelves, turning away from the thick file boxes and sealed, numerically marked crates to check out a small, darkened alcove to her right. On the back wall, there was a ladder bolted into place. She looked up to see where it went, but found there was nothing distinguishable to be a platform or an exit up above. It went to nowhere.

She frowned, but shrugged off the oddness of an ill placed ladder. There could have been an exit at one time, but there wasn't one now. She turned away with a sigh. _So much for that…_

As she headed down between the shelves at the back of the room, she found herself greeted by something most unwelcoming. A man stood there in the corner between a cluster of shelves, swaying ever so slightly in his mindless stupor. Sniffing out fresh flesh, he turned his putrefied face towards her, parting crusty, sagging lips to moan in hungry delight. Sherry recoiled. It stunk worse then any zombie she'd encountered yet - understandable since the rotting thing had been hanging out in the sewer.

The zombie moved forward, opening a gap at his back to slip through. She took the chance, moving as quickly as she could, managing to duck out reach.

The zombie sluggishly spun in response, finding it troublesome to keep up with her. In response, he spewed out a slurry of vomit, laced quite threateningly with the acids from its stomach. The spray bit into the concrete with an aggressive hiss - though luckily, it landed nowhere near her.

Gritting her teeth, she dodged between the shelves, almost knocking over a couple of boxes of stationary as she reached the other side of the room. She'd been hoping and praying for another door out of there, but what she found was just a concrete wall. Her hands slapped against it as she abruptly stopped in her tracks. She gaped with surprised, looking over her shoulder to see the shadow of the creature shuffling unhurriedly in her direction.

_No! This can't be happening! _Her eyes darted from corner to corner. Shelves, more shelves-

-_A GRATE! _A God send! It was imbedded into the wall at floor level. The bolts on the base of it had been torn off, which now left a glorified cat flap. She dove for the cover as the zombie shambled between the last shelves a couple of unsteady strides behind. She lifted the grate and slid herself into the opening, wiggling like a worm to push her way inside. She willed herself in faster, trying to get her legs in before the zombie made a grab for her. She could feel it close, almost drooling on top of her.

Her feet were pulled in just in time, the grate slamming shut behind her. She doubted the zombie would be smart enough to follow her in. Their intelligence only went so far.

Ignoring the wails, she crawled her way to the other end where a broken, rusty grate awaited her. Pushing it, it fell off with a clatter and she slid out the other end.

Her hands and knees touched down on the grime-caked concrete of a ventilation tunnel. The air was dry, stale and warm - almost stifling. There was just enough light to tell her that she was alone.

She trudged on hurriedly, crossing the crusty tunnel with little consideration. The pounding of her feet on the concrete filled her ears like roaring drums, swallowing out any other noise in the vicinity. This gave her a delayed reaction to the skittering of feet behind a vent above her. As she passed it, its occupants excitedly began to pile out.

She only noticed the foreign presence when her eyes caught the walls moving.

No, not the walls moving…

_Cockroaches! _Huge, dirty bugs chasing her in their hundreds and thousands. They flowed like brown water out of the vent cover, coating the walls like a spreading disease. Some started to take flight, humming menacingly as they darted at the fleeing girl. She could feel their hard shell bodies bouncing against her like rocks.

"GET AWAY!" She screeched, the sound of her own voice resounding at a deafening pitch. She practically tripped her way towards the grate at the end, surprised that she ripped it straight out of the wall with her bare hands. In truth, it hadn't taken great strength to do so. The rust had already eaten the bolts to ruin.

She pushed herself inside, kicking back at the insects trying to latch themselves onto her flesh. She scrambled the short distance in the cracked shaft until she reached the grate at the end, practically rolling head over heels out of it as she threw it open. Luckily for her, the bugs had stopped their pursuit.

She pressed her face against her knees, sighing with relief. _I hate bugs, I hate bugs, I hate bugs. _She couldn't recall how many times her parents had had to rescue her from one scary insect or another. No matter how many times they'd told her to be a big girl and face her fears, there just seemed to be no way to shake off her horror of all things creepy-crawly.

Catching her breath, she looked around her tiredly. A waste disposal area. It didn't get any better. Her eyes scanned across the heaps of trash, trying to spy where the exit was. Unfortunately, there didn't seem to be one.

She covered her face with despair. There had to be a way out, maybe one buried beneath hordes or filth. There was no way she could go back; there was nowhere else to go!

She clambered to her feet, dusting off her shorts as she stepped towards the trash piles. A treasure trove of items - some useful looking, some not. Fungus and gunk were splattered over overturned wheelbarrows, garden implements, torn clothes - and something else much more interesting. A silver gleam had caught her eye - glinting alluringly - stuck between a cluster of rusted cans and plastic bags.

Leaning in to push them aside, she reveal - much to her surprise - a round, silver emblem. Its thick breadth was engraved with the image of a wolf. She lifted its weight into her hand, intrigued by something so expensive-looking. Not quite something she'd expect to end up discarded in a trash heap. Who in their right mind would throw away such a precious item? Shaking her head, she decided to pocket it for safe keeping.

Now, she focused back on the matter at hand; finding an exit. Another vent, maybe? She'd be lucky.

An ominous creak ripped through the quiet. She froze on the spot.

_What was that?!_

The answer came almost immediately. The floor beneath her feet - actually a rusty trapdoor - opened up like a yawning maw. She had no time to react as she was plunged with mounds of trash into the dark abyss below. She screamed as she hurtled into depths unknown, iron and concrete walls passing her by in a streaking blur. The wind was suddenly forced from her lungs as she finally impacted abruptly on a pile of old containers and trash bags. Her temple connected with something hard amongst the dirt pile, sending her reeling.

She could already feel a lump forming as she tried desperately to pull herself up to her knees. Trembling, the world around her swam, and she swayed as the nausea set in. She buckled under her own weight, collapsing back into the pile with a whimpering groan.

The sound of flowing water filled her ears. She had definitely landed somewhere else in the open sewer systems, but her mind was starting to struggle with general comprehension, let alone decipher her actual position. Her limbs tingled with numbness as she started to lose command of her own body. She closed her eyes, the throbbing inside her skull too intense for her to take.

Her consciousness was fading fast. She had no more energy left to fight.

_No… I can't… Claire… Where are you?! Help me…_

If she'd had the power, she'd have run if she could - if only she'd seen what was coming for her. The creature that had been pursuing her since her foray in the police station had finally caught up to her. She could hear the sloshing of movement through the water, but couldn't move; couldn't even react. She didn't know who it might be. She'd hoped it was Claire. That was the last thought she clung to.

Before the dark of the unconscious swallowed her whole, she felt a pain in her throat, proceeding to burn its way down into her chest. She gagged, gasped and screamed, but she couldn't fight back. She didn't know what had happened to her in those few minutes, and would be thankful never to truly find out. But for certain, her life was now in mortal jeopardy.

The countdown had begun…


	12. Chapter 11: Reality Bites

**Epic: The Third Survivor**

**By. Indigo Siren**

_Disclaimer: Resident Evil is __copyright__ to Capcom. I do not own any of the characters and situations depicted from the games. They are merely being used for entertainment purposes only. I do however own this story and any characters and scenarios that were not featured in the franchise. All rights reserved._

**A/N: I honestly can't believe how long it has been since I last updated this. Nearly 9 months! Well, lots of things have put off this actually being finished quicker, mainly writer's block, and I am so happy to have finally got this done. Anyway, enough talking, on with the show!**

**Chapter 11: Reality Bites**

Claire looked at the slightly illuminated watch face on her wrist. It indicated it had just gone past midnight. It had been around nine o'clock when she had first arrived in Raccoon City. Had she really been running around for three hours in this God forsaken hell hole?

She had to admit, time had never felt so fleeting to her in her whole life. It didn't even feel like two minutes ago that she'd left her college campus, determined to find her brother.

That was three days ago.

She was really starting to feel the lack of food and sleep now more than ever. She was running on pure adrenaline alone now. Deep down, she'd wished she'd not followed her gut feeling about rushing into Raccoon City. If only she'd known what was waiting for her.

_Serves me right for not turning the TV on once in a while… _She pushed open the door ahead of her, coming to stand on a filthy ledge just above a gulley of dirty water. She was somewhere in the heart of Raccoon's sewage network; cramped paths, stale air and the occasional zombie to take down. Not the kind of night she was used to.

She had been clueless to the events that had overtaken the city, despite listening to Chris's bizarre stories. He had been vague in his accounts of the strange things he'd seen, though she had put it all down to the stress and grief he had experienced when losing his team mates out in the field of action. He'd tried to assure her that he would be fine, but his lack of contact in the last month had urged her more and more to visit him, just to see for herself that he was alright.

Chris had been a rock all her life, especially after their parents died while they were still relatively young. She felt she owed him a lot for practically giving up his life to support her. It was her gratitude that fuelled her resolve to protect her big brother, a gratitude that had her mounting her motorcycle days ago, taking the long trek to Raccoon City.

Her unawareness had led her right into the heart of this nightmare.

As she stepped carefully off the ledge into the combination of oily crud water, a part of her wondered whether it had really been worth all the trouble after all. Maybe if she'd had more patience, she could just have waited a little longer for him to contact her - and he probably was due to get in touch. At least then she wouldn't have had to find out the hard way that he had left the city weeks ago.

Chastising herself as she shuddered at every ominous creak and groan emanating from the shadows, she knew she could have avoided all this trouble if she'd not been so foolhardy.

Her brother's whereabouts lingered in the back of her mind, pushed back in favour of her new concern in the form of the innocent Sherry Birkin.

She'd met the young girl not long after arriving in the city, one of the last survivors looking for security in the police station, which had already been breached by hordes of the undead. She reflected a strong intelligence in her fearful eyes, her heart imbued with a perpetual determination to live. Where other stronger more capable people had died, she had managed to keep going, using the environment to her advantage. She knew not of the true evil that had overwhelmed the city - brought on by the girl's own father. Police Chief Irons had dropped that bombshell on her before his untimely demise.

Sherry couldn't have known what her father had been up to; she only showed admiration and love for him. Wherever he was now, he was probably hiding away from this horror of his own making.

In the few hours that she had come to know her young companion, she had found her heartstrings tugged with compassion for her wellbeing. Almost as if she'd adopted a little sister. She wanted to offer her the warmth and assurance that she sorely lacked, having been left on her own for so long. Touched by her courage, loyalty and selflessness, Claire made an inward promise: That she would help Sherry to survive, whatever it took.

Despite fate conspiring against them, Claire hurried as quickly as she could through the narrow sewer channels, searching for her young friend. It was just as dangerous down there as it had been in the police station, and Sherry had nothing to defend herself with.

Claire had had the misfortune to come across a new abomination while circumnavigating the waterways. A gargantuan spider, the size of a pickup truck. Anyone with arachnophobia would have imploded at the sight of it. Lucky for her, a couple of shots to its bulbous body were enough to take it out. She hoped Sherry had been lucky enough to avoid an encounter with one of those beasts.

If things weren't complicated enough with Sherry disappearing and the army of viral monsters lurking about, she now had Leon to deal with as well; though, more accurately, his request.

The rookie police officer was the first living person she'd encountered when she rode into the city. They had been assisting each other while looking for survivors and means of escape. He'd been shot in the shoulder in the entranceway to the sewers. His condition was stable, not that he appeared too concerned about his own state, more for that of his companion, who'd run off chasing the gunman who'd shot him.

Leon had begged her to find his friend, a woman he'd hooked up with at the police station. It was enough that she had to look for Sherry, but this other woman, too. But she had promised him she would and she wasn't one to go back on her word.

After begrudgingly leaving Leon behind, she'd trekked all the way to the gulley where she believed Sherry had first fallen. She was nowhere to be found.

Following every possible path that the young girl could have taken, she found herself led to the darkest, most spine-chilling recesses in this underground maze. What was equally disturbing as the few mouldy zombies she'd mowed down along the way, was the pile of bodies she'd found partially hidden in a lonely, shadow-drenched corner. They were festered with maggots and stank worse than some of the waste floating around her boots. They had to have been there a while; a few weeks maybe? She couldn't be sure.

More bizarrely, the bodies were donned in SWAT-like attire with gas masks obscuring their faces. There were no distinguishing markings on their outfits, either, which raised a certain amount of suspicion about them. They couldn't have been with the police. What could a unit of their type have been doing down there, and what the heck had finished them off?

They were wearing enough body armour to survive the blast of a high velocity weapon. But it wasn't bullets that had killed them. Their torsos were split wide open, their armour torn open like paper. She stared at the jagged lines that spilled the contents of their stomachs across the concrete. She envisioned large claws slashing them with ferocity, but couldn't quite picture the kind of creature that could have caused the devastating blow, but it must have been a size of epic proportions. Claire swallowed back the bile, sensing that something more sinister could be lurking around the corner. She wondered if these bodies had been a part of a prelude to these devastating events? Who were they? What had been their purpose? That, she would probably never know.

She shook her head with a sigh. The giant spiders she could just about take, but something that could potentially slice her in two without even breaking a sweat, send chills rocking through her.

_And here I thought things couldn't get more convoluted…_

Treading carefully through the spent cartridge casings, she held her breath as she leant over the corpses, searching them for any remaining ammo. There were quite a few handgun magazines still left over unused. Whatever had killed them hadn't given them much time to react.

Lucky for her… In some morbid way.

Leaving the masked men to their makeshift grave, she moved on; better armed, though no more confident than before.

She proceeded down two wider conduits. The current of sewage water between them was being pumped down more fiercely. A couple of zombies lurked in the misty water, rising unceremoniously as she trudged her way forward. A few careful shots to the head took them out without much fanfare.

Pushing through a iron barred gate at the very end, she found herself facing a dirty waterfall at the far end of the short waterway. She couldn't see beyond the filthy torrent, and didn't particularly want to step under it.

Her attention was soon drawn to a rusted, gunk covered panel to the right of her. There were two round slots indented into the top of it, below which were two engravings; one with the image of an eagle and the other with a wolf. They appeared to be indicating the 'keys' that operated the system, not that she knew _which _system she was operating. Currently, both slots were empty.

Maybe she'd find them on her travels, but they weren't foremost in her mind. Stepping up onto a walkway to her left, she headed through the awaiting double doors at the bottom.

The sound of running sludge water was prevalent in the room beyond. It was - to no lesser extent - a cesspool; a tank of whatever ungodly slush they'd gathered together. It sat at the bottom of a two levelled room, accessible - as it appeared - by a motorised bridge that would rise and fall between the levels.

Claire's attention was drawn enough to distract her from the figure moving against the shadowy wall. She could have even pleaded ignorance, as the running water covered up the sound of the careful footsteps on the metal walkway. She only realised she had company when she turned to find a gun pointed at her face.

* * *

It was willpower alone that brought her back to consciousness. The real battle now was maintaining that state.

Her symptoms were almost flu like. The aches and pains, the nausea, the terrible heat that stabbed through her like hot pokers…

She tried to move, but couldn't. She had no energy left. All her limp body wanted to do was sleep, but she knew deep down that it would be a bad idea to give in to that longing.

All she wanted to do was get off that trash pile and away from that acrid water swirling around her, but any effort to do so brought her close to blacking out again. That didn't seem like a bad thing though; some of the things she could feel moulding themselves around her through the trash bags made her skin crawl. She didn't dare think what they might actually be, in fact, thinking had become a little bit too much of a task in itself. Maybe a blessing in disguise.

She could barely remember how she'd gotten into this predicament. She'd been attacked, hadn't she? Brief images flashing across her vision confirmed that fact. And fortunately, she had survived… just about.

She squinted at her surroundings, shuddering as a breath of cold air from a vent behind her drifted over her skin. Unable to move, she could only see what was in her line of sight, and that was nothing much at all. Only water and trash.

Her eyes gazed at the surface of the water. Its oily, green-tinted surface gently rippled. Sometimes, there was even a rolling movement, as if something had shifted beneath the surface. Despite her fragile condition, she felt some level of uncertainty. A sloshing sound caught her ear, sending a jolt of dread through her like a bolt of lightning.

There was something in there with her. Her attacker? She tried to recall the hulking form that had loomed over her. There was something humanoid about it, that's all she remembered. A zombie like creature? No, she'd have been dead for certain if a zombie had gotten a hold of her. It had been a much different creature.

She desperately wanted her parents. And Claire. She didn't want to die down there alone.

A single tear fought its way out and trickled in a warm line down her cold, pale cheek. She tried to speak, but nothing emerged; instead, she just mouthed the words she wanted to shout at the top of her lungs.

_Help me…  


* * *

_

It had been a long time since she'd seen daylight. It had been just as long since she had breathed in fresh air. Cooped up deep underground most of her days, Annette Birkin, was starting to miss the things she'd barely even considered before, and this was only because she had plenty of time now to really think about life and everything she took for granted.

What day was it now? How long ago was it since she last had a decent meal? Was she going to get out of this nightmare alive?

She had failed to keep order in the chaos inside the labs in which she worked. And now the virus had consumed there, too. She had done the best she could to preserve her husband's research. After everything he'd been through, she wouldn't allow all his hard work to be destroyed.

She thought of her poor, darling husband, her throat tight with emotion. He'd suffered so terribly. All because of Umbrella. She cursed their name to the heavens. It had only been a matter of time before they'd turned their back of them, greedy for the power William Birkin's research brought.

She'd wanted to save him. Her precious William. But she had failed him. What a terrible wife she was to allow his glorious mind to be lost. Time and again, she'd stared at the gun she carried in a vice like grip, contemplating turning it upon herself. She was most deserving of the bullet to the temple.

But she needed to carry on. She needed to protect the labs. Find some order in the chaos. And ultimately, get her revenge.

But what of her now? All she could do was run around the sewer like a trapped rat, awaiting a fate unknown.

Unforgivably, she'd forgotten about her daughter, Sherry. She had instructed her little girl to seek refuge at the police station. She thought it would be the safest place for her to be.

It was only be chance that she found out her daughter was on the move, as she encountered a young woman - a biker girl, as she could describe her - as she trawled through the sewers. Her mind had been focused on finding more incriminating evidence to use against her murderous employers and try and hide any evidence regarding her husband, but soon her attention was focused solely on the whereabouts of her daughter, lost in a culvert somewhere.

The biker girl had told her that the police station had become too dangerous to continue to hide out in, and she and Sherry had escaped together, only to become separated shortly upon entering the sewers. It seemed this complete stranger had taken it upon herself to become Sherry's protector, and was doing everything she could to find her. Annette was heartened, if only a little.

But she knew Sherry was in much greater danger.

Maybe it was tiredness, or a certain feeling that she could rely upon on this young stranger, that she spilled her soul to her, about that night in the labs. That night that had been the beginning of the end for Raccoon City.

It had been late when the mask soldiers had entered the labs. There were only a small number of the research team still in the labs. Most had gone home for the night. Those were the lucky ones.

The moment Annette had caught sight of the soldiers, she had alerted her husband, and narrowly avoided confrontation with the men. The moment she heard gunfire, she knew with a cold dread that something terrible had happened to William.

By the time she reached him, the masked men were long gone with a case of virus samples. Some T-Virus, but also with a supply of William's own precious creation. The G-Virus. A weapon like no other.

He clung barely to life, pitilessly riddled with bullets. She begged him to hang on, and that she would make things better. But that had not stopped his determination to punish his assailants, by using his own creation on himself.

The results were horrifying. He turned into a monster.

Deservedly, in her mind, the soldiers got what was coming to them - by curtsey of William, giving them a taste of the G-Virus - their carcasses left to rot in the sewers like the garbage they were. But during William's onslaught, the virus got out, and was carried by the rats into Raccoon City.

The young woman listened to her story in silent horror, but she did not crumble under the weight of her words. She had a strong will.

Annette lamented that the more time that passed, the more she knew that William's humanity was slipping away. By now, he must have forgotten about his former life, but she still held the hope that maybe, just maybe, there was something of him left of him… Maybe then, Sherry would stand a chance.

The G-Virus infected its victims with an embryo to create its offspring, but the host needed to be compatible to the original carrier. Sherry was the perfect match, being William's daughter. Annette had wanted to keep her as far away as possible, so that her little girl wouldn't suffer the same fate.

She had no room to feel guilty for the experiments she had dedicated herself to, and what horrors they had caused when they had broken loose, but she felt a sense of anger at herself for not being a better parent and getting Sherry out of harms way the moment she knew trouble was coming. How blind she had been to the world beyond the four walls of the lab.

It was probably irony that once she had finished telling the young woman about what might happen to Sherry, a terrified scream echoed through the sewers.

The woman wasted no time taking off to find her, as did Annette, taking a different path to cover more ground in finding her.

If there was a God in the world, she begged him not to punish Sherry for their sins.

* * *

Sherry had slept for a short time. She felt a little less groggy than before when she next opened her eyes. Not that she felt any less nauseous. Her stomach felt like a cavern with decaying walls.

Her lips were sandpaper dry, but she thought twice about licking them. Her face had touched things that she didn't particularly want to ingest; and she didn't particularly want to make her stomach any worse.

She groaned weakly, the sound little more than a choked gurgle trying to force its way out. A slosh not far from her reminded her of the 'thing' that was still around under the gloomy water.

Moments later, a metallic clank shook her from her daze. She tried lifting her head to see where it came from, but a throbbing in her temples forced her to remain inert. She groaned again, squeezing her eyes shut.

"Sherry!"

The relief flooded its way in through the pain. _Claire? _There was hope after all…

… For all of two seconds.

Something burst from the water in response to Claire's call. Something huge. The hideous roar it made was unlike anything she'd heard before. Still finding it difficult to move, she was unable to get much of a glimpse of the creature - only its tail. Green, scaly, and covered in a thick layer of slime. Some kind of reptile.

The size of it chilled her to the bone.

Claire cried out. There was hurried footsteps on a metal walkway, pursued by the rampant and heavy pounding of the chasing beast, its frame slamming from wall to wall, which Sherry could feel vibrate throughout the room.

An alarm sounded shrilly, followed by that metallic clank she had heard earlier, this time, more violently.

Muffled gunfire and roars boomed off into another area, moving away from her position. Sherry quaked, feeling helpless, calling out feebly for Claire.

_Don't die… Please…_


	13. Chapter 12: Closer To Oblivion

**Epic: The Third Survivor**

**By. Indigo Siren**

_Disclaimer: Resident Evil is __copyright__ to Capcom. I do not own any of the characters and situations depicted from the games. They are merely being used for entertainment purposes only. I do however own this story and any characters and scenarios that were not featured in the franchise. All rights reserved._

**A/N: Its been a while since I updated. I did take some time out from writing it, especially knowing there was going to be a lot of work going into this chapter compared to the last few. But I really powered a long with it recently since I was in a writing mood and finally got it all finished. Hope it was worth the wait!**_  
_

**Chapter 12: Closer To Oblivion**

Alligators in the sewers were supposed to be an urban legend.

Someone had forgotten to tell Claire that the legend had become a horrible reality.

But this was no run of the mill alligator. This was some mutated gargantuan monster freak, three times it's normal size. A killing machine so big it wouldn't even have to think about chewing her ass before swallowing.

She threw herself out of harms way, the jaws behind her snapping shut with a frightening reverberation. Scrambling back to her feet, Claire knew she had to put some distance between her and the alligator, which was now forcing its huge frame into the tight passage with furious determination. Its body hitting the walls caused tremors that almost took her off her feet.

Stumbling on, Claire fired a few shots back at her colossal foe, the meagre bullets of her 9mm bouncing off its thick hide. She swore under her breath and kept running. If there was any advantage she had, it was her speed. But she couldn't just run away from it. If she retreated, that would mean Sherry would be left alone defenceless. And if that thing managed to backtrack, she wouldn't stand a chance.

Claire had to stop it somehow, without being caught and ripped to pieces.

While it struggled to pull itself along in the confined space, she put some distance between them, all the while looking around herself for something that might just stop it in its tracks. Almost skidding over as she took the next corner, she looked from edge to edge, looking for oil bottles or even a long sharp pole. She was sweating and out of breath by the time she reached the end of the corridor, bracing herself against the wall as she tried to figure out what the hell she was going to do. The roar that vibrated through the concrete told her she needed to think fast.

As she turned, considering that there might be something in the room next to the passage, her shoulder brushed something on the wall. Something concaved in the wall. It was a gas cylinder.

Next to it was sign: _**'IN CASE OF AN EMERGENCY, THE RED LIGHT WILL TURN ON, AND THE GAS CYLINDER MAY BE REMOVED.'**_

Lucky for her, the red light was indeed on just above a pull handle release.

The alligator heaved itself around the corner. Time was running out. She had to act now or end up as snack food.

She yanked down the release, and with a clunk, the gas cylinder tipped out of its crevice and fell to the floor, rolling to an abrupt stop.

Claire gave the cylinder a firm push with her foot, rolling it further forward into the direct path of the advancing alligator. It intercepted it, locking its huge jaws around it and lifting it up.

She backed up as far as she could go, sneering at the scaly behemoth and its folly. She rose her the 9mm, aiming it directly at the cylinder. Just as it was about to lurch forward, she opened fire.

BAM. BAM.

_**BOOM!**_

She was knocked clean off her feet by the ensuing explosion. Blood and brain matter rained down in thick, fatty lumps.

She lay on the concrete her ears ringing. Bruised, and maybe even slightly baked, she turned her head towards the now still form of the alligator. The carnage was immense. Its body was a charred mess, partially de-scaled and smoking. But the real mutilation was to its head. All that was left it was the bottom jaw and its seared tongue, laying in a pool of blood and saliva.

Her sense of triumph was immense.

_TAKE THAT ASSHOLE! When I get out of here, I'm turning your ass into a handbag and boots!  
_

* * *

With Sherry's next attempt to get back up, the nausea became just too much. Something in her gut churned and bubbled, forcing her to drag herself to the back edge of the trash heap and vomit. Expelled along with whatever liquid was left in her stomach was something that had literally wiggled its way up to her throat - as if she'd swallowed some kind of giant maggot. With her next retch, it literally leapt out her gullet and disappeared into the piles of plastic bags in a greyish blur. Her head still swimming in waves of confusion, she didn't even acknowledge what she had just thrown up.

She spat an acidy taste from her mouth, coughing and gagging. When her stomach finally relented, she settled back into her original position, not experiencing the same kind of discomfort as she had been. If anything, she was only achy now.

An almighty explosion jolted her. The metal and concrete walls trembled and groaned before slipping back into a stagnant silence.

Whether it was shock or the after affect of her violent vomiting fit, Sherry found herself slipping away again. A few minutes later, a pair of desperate hands shook her back to consciousness.

"Come on, Sherry, wake up! Please open your eyes!"

Doing as commanded, Sherry slowly parted her lids, a swimming blurriness lifting as her gaze fell upon a very welcoming sight. A very battered but living Claire Redfield.

Sherry's hand shook as it reached out to her newfound friend, who took it in her own with a smile of relief. Neither one could have expressed how happy they were to see the other.

With great care, Claire helped Sherry to sit up, who was taking deep breaths to settle her stomach and focus her reeling head. Claire spied something over Sherry's shoulder, something that made her frown with concern. Sherry noticed this, but said nothing, as Claire's attention was soon back on her.

A sharp pain shot through Sherry's gut and she doubled up, her shoulders caught by Claire as she slipped forward. "My stomach… It hurts…" She whimpered.

Sherry didn't see Claire's knowing look as she pet her hair softly. "Don't worry, you'll be fine," she told her soothingly, even if a glint in her eye said she wasn't so sure.. "Lets go, sweetie."

The discomfort she'd had before had yielded somewhat, and she felt she could at least move now without wanting to throw up. But there something inside her said she still wasn't quite right.

Lifting her from under the arms, Claire helped her down from the trash heap into the murky water, which reached the bottom of Sherry's hips. She inhaled sharply at the tepid temperature of the murky water.

Claire picked up the wolf emblem that Sherry had dropped earlier. Recalling something, she pocketed the item, seemingly know what to do with it. As Sherry wadded over to her, Claire took her hand and guided her carefully over towards a ledge not far from them, where a ladder awaited to get them out of the cesspool.

Claire helped a still weak Sherry up onto the ledge and got her to hang onto her back as she climbed up the ladder.

Almost a storey above the cesspools, Claire set Sherry down on the walkway at the top and they proceeded slowly across the elevated bridge there and up a steep walkway to the west.

Nearing the top, Claire stopped and cursed under her breath. They'd come up to a dead end, at a little control station wedged up in the top corner. Sherry glanced around her, gasping at the sight of a man slumped against a power generator, half of his face splattered across the metallic surface.

Sherry was ready to turn back, but to her surprise, Claire walked up to where the body was resting, picking up some items fallen at his feet. Sherry moved timidly over to join her, though kept her distance from the pungent smelling body. In one hand, she had ammo for her handgun and in the other, a gold emblem almost like the wolf one that she had found earlier. Claire let her take a look. It had the picture of a eagle cut into it.

Claire noticed a file sat on the control panel in front of them. She picked it up, scanning the contents with an expression that turned to one of uneasiness, which nudged Sherry's curiosity, but before she could even get a look, Claire had folded the papers up and shoved them into one of her pockets.

"What did it say?" Sherry asked.

"Don't worry about it. It was nothing special."

Even though Claire tried to be assuring, Sherry could sense there was something more to it, but decided not to push it.

"Lets get moving," Claire directed, and they backtracked down the walkway, taking the only other direction which led around to another ladder just below a moving industrial fan. There was a panel with a valve to the side of the ladder, which Claire took a hold of. It took a few firm tugs to get it moving, but eventually the rusty handle screeched with ear-splitting resonance as she rotated it. A couple of full turns later and the light on the panel changed from red to green, and the fan eventually came to a complete stop.

Again, Claire carried Sherry up the ladder and through the fan frame into the connecting ventilation tunnel. Only hollow air echoed through there now, filtering in from other smaller vents. Sherry had a few seconds frozen horror, recalling her recent bug chase, but shook it off. Claire was with her now. She had nothing to worry about.

They passed through the short tunnel to the ladder on the opposite side. This time, Sherry felt capable enough to descend the ladder herself.

"Stay close to me. I don't want to lose you again." Claire seemed very familiar with her surroundings, and was ready with her gun. With caution, they moved on.

Trudging as fast as they could, Sherry thankfully found the strength to keep up, pushing their way through the waste from one gate to the next. A few zombies seemed to materialise out of nowhere, which Claire took out with very little effort. Heading towards the last gate, Sherry caught the glimpse of one of the huge spiders resting in an alcove. Claire urged her on through the gate to avoid a confrontation. On the other side, they were safe.

A raging waterfall fell blocking the way down and Sherry was about to ask what they were going to do when Claire moved over to a panel on the wall, retrieving the two emblems she'd shoved into her back pockets. She checked which one was which before inserting them both into the two awaiting slide slots in the face of it. Immediately, there was a response. The flow to the waterfall was severed, cutting off the water so that the torrent before them slowly diminished, eventually becoming nothing more than a few mere drips. The light on the panel turned blue with a hearty bleep once the process was complete.

The murky green brickwork of the sewer works came to an end, instead replaced by a chiselled ashen rock face where a door was inbuilt, sat on a smooth stone ledge.

Claire turned to Sherry. "If I hadn't have been so damn wary about some kind of infectious gunk coming down in that water, I might have just jumped through to save some time."

Sherry gave her a sheepish smile as they headed for the door, both hoping this was the way out of the sewers.

On the other side of the door was a narrow wooden walkway, bolted into the cavern ceiling with huge metal poling. The lights strung up by thick wiring, lit the walkway brightly, and they could see they were standing on a causeway that seemed to be built over a bottomless pit swallowed in blackness. Claire kicked a pebble through the side railing, listening out for when it hit the bottom. It was a little unnerving when no sound came back. She shared a dubious glance with Sherry before they headed along the creaky-boarded path.

The sewage stench wasn't quite so prominent now, giving rise to the hope they were heading into a new, less polluted area. But before either could get caught up in more optimistic thoughts, the cavern suddenly shook, as if something had jolted it from above. Sherry stumbled and fell to her knees, squeaking as a bunch of rocks crashed down onto the path in front of her, and bounced off into the dark oblivion below. Claire had just about managed to keep herself on her feet, and dutifully helped Sherry back up, dusting off her knees for her.

"You okay?"

Sherry nodded. "Yeah."

"Spooky, huh?"

"I've been more scared."

Claire smiled. "Me, too."

The cavern thankfully didn't shake again, and they moved on, stepping off the wooden walkway onto a descending metal ramp that turned off to the right, leading down to a steel plated door. They stepped through it onto a wooden entranceway, which welcomed them into a much wider room. Off the entranceway, there was a large metal grid platform that led over to an interesting vehicle. A cable car.

Sherry trotted over to the side doors on the car and pulled on the handles. Unfortunately for her, they were locked. Downhearted, she headed over to where Claire had located herself, on the opposite side of the cable car where she had located a small computer panel. She was tapping away at it when Sherry joined her side, standing up on her tiptoes to see what she was doing.

The screen indicated an activation process for 'Sky Tram' - the designation of the cable car. Currently, the start up programs were loading the functions to bring the full systems online. It took a few minutes before a new screen opened, indicated everything was ready, and asked if they were ready to turn it on. Claire tapped the 'Yes' button.

The lights to 'Sky Tram' came on first as it's main diesel motors roared to life.

"Where does it go?" Sherry asked.

Claire could only shrug. "I guess we can only find out."

This time when they tried the doors on the vehicle, they slid open without protest. The sparse but well lit interiors were very sterile and industrial looking, though there were some pull down seats they could settle onto for the journey. Claire cranked down a lever to the rear of the compartment to get the Sky Tram moving. With a shuddering clunk, they departed the platform.

Sherry tiredly settled herself back for as much rest as she could get. Claire sat down next to her, putting a hand to her forehead.

"How's your stomach doing now?" She asked.

"Its still a bit weird," she said, rotating her fingers on both sides of her forehead.

"You got a headache coming on, too?" Sherry gave a little nod in response. She patted her knee sympathetically. "You just relax while you can. I don't know how long we'll be on here though. Hopefully enough time to recoup."

The Sky Tram wasn't particularly rickety, so it was a smooth enough ride for Sherry to catch some rest, cuddled against Claire's shoulder as the older woman checked her weapons and counted her ammo supply.

The ride took just over fifteen minutes before the tram slowed down as it pulled into its destination. Sherry jolted awake with a few seconds confusion to her location before everything came back to her, and tiredly, she pulled herself up to her feet. Claire pulled her ponytail tight and upholstered her gun as she opened the doors.

The small platform had only one exit to take, which was through a door in the north wall.

"What's that?" Sherry said, pointing at the device built onto the end of the platform.

"I think its a flare gun. What the hell they'd need one of those for in here, I don't know."

Before they headed for the exiting door, Claire bent down to pick up a lonely looking key that she had noticed laying against the skirting of the wall. The leather tag read: **''**

Claire stashed it, never knowing when they may come to need it.

One the other side of the door, a narrow corridor presented itself, rank with the smell of death. It soon became apparent why.

A squelching shuffle. A gargling moan.

They weren't alone.

Sherry clutched Claire's hand, looking up at her helplessly. Claire's determined face turned to her and offered her the assurance that she was going to take care of things. They pushed on, with Sherry following at a safe distance.

The corridor above branched off in two directions, and standing in which were two zombies, sagging under the weight of their own filthy clothes. The bony creatures took up either end of the corridor like a pair of undead sentries. When they caught sight of Claire stepping into their territory, the smell of fresh meat prompted into action. With hungry outstretched arms, they closed in on her position.

Moving fast, Claire turned unloading two shots into the zombie on her right. The shots struck high in the chest and the throat. It staggered back, convulsing, though just about remained vertical. She whipped around to the second one and instead of opening fire, made the brave choice to shoulder ram it in the mid-section. Its feeble body folded under the strength of her attack, and it hit the floor like a brick. Before it even had the chance to rise again, she put a bullet straight between its eyes.

With one dispatched, she turned her attention back to the other, performing a spectacular move as she kicked up off a handrail on the wall, grabbing the pipes above and thrust her feet straight into its face.

Like a pinball, its head shot off, bouncing off down the corridor. It took a moment for its body to acknowledge the decapitation before it fell to the floor.

Claire let go of the pipes and landed with grace. Sherry was in awe. Noticing her gaze, the older woman gave her a wink.

"You've got to know when to save a bullet!"

Walking around the corridor on the left, they found themselves at a dead end, though Claire had the fortune of finding a new weapon to take along with her. It was laying next to the gnawed body of man, who was no longer in a position to actually need it. It was something along the lines of a cattle prod, fully charged and ready for use.

At the other end of the corridor, they passed through a door into another set of narrow passages almost identical to the ones before. Claire led the way, undeterred by the evident sounds of more zombies in their way.

There were three of them this time. Claire gave the closest one a swift kick to its bony midsection, the force of which snapped the spine of its degraded body. It was much less of a threat now it couldn't get back up. As the next one lurched forward, Claire dropped to the ground, latching her legs around its own, taking it down in one quick motion, snapping its ankle in the process. With it unable to stop its fall, it smashed its face into the concrete floor, crushing its nose and knocking out most of its teeth. Because the last zombie had managed to get in too close, she decided this time to greet it with a barrage of bullets.

Sherry quickly followed, avoiding the flailing arms of the downed zombies and waiting until the third dropped down and stopped moving before she traipsed after Claire towards a ladder at the end of the corridor. If truth be told, Sherry was starting to get sick of seeing ladders. Why not an elevator or a stair lift? On the edge of exhaustion, she pulled herself up after her companion.

Claire pushed open a cover above them and they climbed out into what appeared to be a workers office, that had long since seen active use. A couple of old yellow hard hats on the wall were covered in a thick layer of dust, the first aid cabinets had warped over time and was half collapsed, a cabinet door completely missing. The main work console was cracked and rusted, with a couple of the computer screens appearing to have taken some pot shots by the bullet hole damage.

Claire looked through the medical cabinet, but there wasn't anything of use to them. They weren't going to get much out of the computers, so with a heave, they pushed open the exiting door.

The breeze that greeted them as it gusted through the dilapidated warehouse was almost refreshing. The air was musty with an earthy mire, tinted with the industrialised smell of oil. They were glad at least it didn't stink of death.

The old building grunted on its rusty frame as the wind pushed its way through its cracked panels, rattling the half dislodged slats barely hanging on by a thread. It was a shell of its former self, fading into obscurity. Sherry could almost compare it to Raccoon City in general. Falling apart and fading away.

Out on the front of the open warehouse, bathed in the glow of moonlight was a train yard, with a shabby old train sat on a turntable. It was currently rotated away from the main track.

"If we could get it working," Claire said with some uncertainty, "we might be able to ride it out of town."

There was a panel to the side of the train, which operated the systems to start up the turntable, though when they came to use it, they found it was inactive. It required a key to put it into operation.

Claire fished into her pocket to retrieve the key she'd found earlier on the Sky Tram platform. Comparing it to the key slot on the panel, it was quite evident it didn't match. Huffing, Claire

asked Sherry to wait there while she went back to the worker's office. Minutes later, she returned, her search proving fruitless.

"I guess I could always try the obvious," she said with a sigh, asking Sherry to wait again as she climbed up to enter the train.

Sherry learned tiredly against the panel, taking in her surroundings idly. If there was one think she was glad of, it was the reprieve from the monsters. She wouldn't hold her breath though.

Claire reappeared a minute later, jangling another key. "Lets see how this does!"

Luck was smiling on them. They key was the right one. Turning it in the slot, the panel responded, four red lights illuminating, awaiting the next step to commence. Claire pushed the main button, activating the system as one by one, the lights consecutively switched from red to green. Start up complete, a horn overhead honked like a blaring seal, signalling them to board the train.

They shuffled in through the back entrance into the train's cramped berth, which contained a small freestanding area with a single green leather bench attached to the wall, a tiny toilet cubicle, and a forward compartment where the main controls for the train were situated.

The horn eventually stopped, and the train shook as the platform became wildly animate. Claire leaned against one of the tinted windows, looking out to see what was actually going on. Her expression turned to one of confusion, and she disappeared in a hurry to the forward compartment, with Sherry following not far behind. She scrutinised the control panels, muttering to herself with frustration that things weren't going the way she thought.

"Damn it, the train is locked down. The turn table is running a pre-set programme." Flashing on a small screen were the words 'UMB LAB LEVEL1'. No matter how much Claire tapped at the console, nothing responded.

Sherry moved back into the rear of the train, starting to feel immensely ill again. She sat down on the bench, wrapping her arms around her cramping stomach. A minute later, Claire rejoined her, returning to the window to watch with dismay as the turntable unlatched itself from the main platform as a powerful motor beneath them came to life. Seconds later, they lurched into a speedy descent to places unknown.

Sherry, oblivious to the situation, couldn't take the pain anymore. Her stomach was like a bubbling boiler of acid, almost wanting to eat its way out of her. She doubled over, tears streaming down her face. In turn, her head began to swim.

"Claire…" She mumbled, drawing her attention. "My stomach… My stomach hurts…" Suddenly overcome by an agonising wave, Sherry collapsed against the bench.

She could just about see Claire rush to her in a sort of twisted image, like staring out from a cracked television screen.

"Hang in there, Sherry!" Her voice echoed hollowly in her ear. She could just about feel her lay a gentle her hand on her forehead. There was definite concern on her face and in her voice. "She's burning up. I have to hurry before the embryos pupate…" She had been speaking more to herself with her last statement, her voice low, but Sherry still heard the words.

_What does she mean? What does she know about this? Why do I feel so sick?_

The dizziness was taking over, accompanied by a blanket of heaviness wanting to smother her into unconsciousness. She struggling to her last not to surcome.

Above her head, a loud banging shook the train, accompanied by a very ominous bellowing hiss. Sherry barely reacted to it in her daze. Claire however was getting ready for action, removing a grenade launcher she'd been carting around on her back. She was preparing herself for a very dangerous fight.

Sherry closed her eyes, not seeing Claire take a hesitant breath as she stepped out of the train onto the descending turntable. She didn't even hear the door temporarily lock after her as a safety precaution.

Moments later, a very violent battle took place, with Sherry mostly unaware of it as she teetered on the edge of consciousness. The roars and gunfire drifted over her like a distant buzzing. If only she had known the truth about the creature that Claire was unloading grenades against. What would she had thought if she had known it had used to be her father?

Maybe it was almost ironic that deep down inside she was crying out for her mommy and daddy to be there with her. To comfort her and take the pain away.

* * *

Outside on the turntable, the man formerly known as William Birkin had transmogrified beyond recognition. There were only bare remnants of the man left behind, though they no longer existed in his physical appearance. There was nothing to describe the kind of creature he had become. He was alien to any human concept of a living organism. Just a multi-limbed abomination.

Claire showed no pity towards him. He had brought this hell on them all; destroyed a city so harmless. No matter his relation to Sherry, there was no love left in him to offer her, or even the arms of protection to keep her safe from the horror. He had become that horror, cursing Sherry to following a similar fate.

But Claire wouldn't let that happen. She would find a way to save her.

Dodging another swipe from his deadly claws, she drew back to fire another grenade into the monstrous torso looming over her.

_Forgive me, Sherry… This is the only way…_

It was a fight for their very survival.


	14. Chapter 13: The Lonely Girl

**Epic: The Third Survivor**

**By. Indigo Siren**

_Disclaimer: Resident Evil is to Capcom. I do not own any of the characters and situations depicted from the games. They are merely being used for entertainment purposes only. I do however own this story and any characters and scenarios that were not featured in the franchise. All rights reserved._

**A/N: It has been far too long since I last updated this story. I must admit, I was drawn away abit from Resident Evil for a while, so my focus on the story waned, though I did have this chapter in the works for a good while. Now, in the last month, I have finally dedicated the time to put it together and complete it. I hope the wait was worth it now that we are at the last legs of the story. Enjoy!**

**Chapter 13: The Lonely Girl**

When the dust settled, Claire was left standing alone on the descending platform. It was a hard fought battle, as denoted by the bent metal barrier and the gouged flooring - she even had her own scrapes and bruises as proof of her part in the violence. The last defeated roars of her foe echoed off far below, sending a tremble through the shaft. Having withdrawn from the fight, it had dragged its hideously mutated carcass to the edge of the platform and had thrown itself off, either to safety or into oblivion.

She had a sneaking suspicion that it wouldn't be the last she'd see of him.

Even while these dramatic events took place, Sherry had been drifting in and out of conscious, unaware of what her father had turned into and the near sacrifice of her new found friend. The sounds of calamity merely drifted over her as if they were happening in place many hundreds of miles away.

Now that the danger had subsided, the train's emergency lock disengaged and Claire was allowed to re-enter the back door.

Sherry's head lolled to the side as she felt her companion approach and kneel next to her. Her warmth was a welcoming comfort.

"Sherry," she heard Claire whisper. She could only whimper pitifully in response.

Moments later, they came to rest at ground zero. Blinding flood lights instantly sparked up as the platform locked into place, efficiently illuminating the trains final stop.

With Sherry unable to move on her own power, Claire nestled her with great care in her arms and carried her from the train and platform. The so-called 'station' the train had stopped at was a covert compound.

As she stepped across the metallic plaza, she took note of the large print emblazoned onto the floor:

**UMBRELLA LABORATORY**

Claire took Sherry to refuge of the closest room - that of a security office. Not a single security officer was there, and by clear indication by the state of the place, not a soul had been there is a while. Left behind in what must have been a hurried abandonment was a disorganised mess of scattered paperwork, damaged computers and spent cartridge cases for a handgun. One of the functioning monitors was following activity deep within the laboratories, which showed a small number of zombies roaming around, idly waiting for their next meal. It was easy enough to understand the disarray based on that footage.

Sherry finally awoke from her cataleptic state a short while later. During the period she had been unconscious, Claire had had time to check her current location via one of the few functioning computer terminals and printed off a number of maps for the entire lab area. She had also restocked her supplies, tended to her wounds and taken the time to remove her sleeveless jacket it and place upon Sherry, whom even in her weakened state could appreciate the warmth and sentiment in the gesture.

Claire hadn't really noticed Sherry emerge from her slumber and was just heading for the door, when Sherry slightly panicked, calling out her name to stop her leaving. The older woman immediately returned to her side, kneeling at the side of the bed that she had laid Sherry on.

"You're finally awake."

Sherry touched the pink jacket she was now clad in. "Isn't this… ?"

Claire offered the gentlest of smiles. "That's okay. You keep it. I'm sure it will keep you safe."

Sherry welled up. "Thank you, Claire." Her lip trembled as she urged herself to go on. "Even though I'm an only child, neither of my parents spent much time with me… Because of their work… I grew up alone…" She felt Claire touch her hand. Sherry tried to blink back the tears. "But, now you're with me, I finally have someone to rely upon." She couldn't help but sob pitifully, having bared her soul to this kind woman who had given so much just to take care of her, even though she barely knew her. She turned away, ashamed of her tears.

"Sherry…"

It must have been awful for Claire, Sherry considered, to have listened to her heartfelt words, and take on board her own misery in such a time of crisis. But she didn't appear to be encumbered by her sudden desperate need to be wanted and cared for by another. Maybe she'd even be touched that she had become to quickly attached to her, like having a big sister. A sibling she had always desired.

"Rest here for a bit," Claire urged, a slight tinge of emotion in her voice. The hand that squeezed hers showed much kindness. "I'll be right back, as soon as I've found the antidote for you."

Sherry simply nodded, taking heart from the courage she could see mustering in Claire's eyes. Giving her one last smile, her older companion left the room, embarking an her arduous journey alone. In the quiet of the room, Sherry was left in solitude to ponder her thoughts.

She was not unfamiliar with being alone. In fact, it was regularly a very frequent event. This time around, it was not the merely her parents putting their own work ahead of her, she was alone because Claire was putting her first. She was out risking her own wellbeing to tend to Sherry's own. She felt bad that she couldn't be of any use, but in her state, she would have been more of a hindrance. A tiny part of her didn't want Claire to go through the trouble. It was more then enough just for the compassion she has shown her. She was close to just telling her leave her behind and think of her own safety. Undoubtedly, she knew that Claire would never do such a thing. She was a noble person.

When faced with her own mortality, the fear of death was almost a choking sensation in the back of her throat. If anything, she especially didn't want to die alone.

Pushing aside such morbid thoughts, she focused her mind on Claire. If this nightmare had never happened, she would have never gotten to meet her. Having met such a kind person such as her, Sherry deemed herself lucky indeed. It was just nice for once that she could be a kid, depending on someone else for a change rather then it being all down to her own forced self sufficiency.

Despite everything, she did miss her parents. Whether or not they had been absent for long periods, she could recall those precious times she had had with them, and knew deep down that even though their work was a huge part of their lives, they did love and value her as their one and only beloved daughter.

_Why aren't you here? What's keeping you away? _These were questions she was just unable to answer.

Tiredly, she rested her head to the right, glancing at the wall next to her, titivated with pictures pulled out from magazines.

The eyes of gorgeous curvaceous women leered back at her. These were the kind of women who never had to concern themselves with lack of attention. Their bleach blonde hair and bronzed skin shone with radiance; their perfect gleaming smiles were a welcoming invitation to any man who caught a glimpse of them. These beauties might not have not been smiling so pleasurably if they'd figured their picture was put up in some place infested with zombies, that would had rather ripped the flesh of their supple bodies then stop to admire them in their skimpy attire.

In between a busty belle perching coyly on the edge of a divan and a scrawled message about organising a group outing to a music festival, was a telephone.

Maybe it was the delirium that pushed her to fumble for the handset, but she managed to knock it off when she backhanded it, and scoop it up from the bed linen to press to her ear. It was a joyful sound to hear it was working. There was a bleeping noise, before it cut in to a recorded message.

'_This is the internal network line for the Raccoon City Umbrella branch. To make outbound calls, please push nine and zero, followed by the star key. For inbound calls, please type in the extension number for the office you are trying to reach. If you do not know the extension number, please hold while we connect you to someone who can help you.'_

There was a measure of joy in her fear addled brain as she recalled the extension number for her parents office. With a shaky hand, she carefully punched each number in.

She wasn't too hopeful that she would get through to them, though she considered that maybe they hadn't been able to get in touch with her was because they had barricaded themselves in at their workplace.

With the last number dialled in, the phone began to ring. She clutched at that last ounce of futile hope, begging under her breath for someone to answer her call. She just wanted to hear their voices and know they were okay.

After a long period of ringing, it finally switched over to the answer machine. A melancholic resignation settled over her. It was just too much to hope that she could get in touch with them. Maybe they were already dead…

'_Your call cannot be taken at the moment,' _piped the female robotic voice of the machine. _'Please leave a message after the tone. Thank you.'_

A loud beep swiftly followed.

Swallowing the dry lump in her throat, Sherry left her message.

"Mom… Dad… It's Sherry. I don't really know where I am. Its an Umbrella place. I think its underground. I don't know…" She blinked back the tears forming in her eyes. "I really wish you were here. I'm so scared. Something bad happened to me, but I can't really remember what. I'm scared that I'm going to die…"

A twinge of pain clenched her chest momentarily, taking her breath away, and she rolled pitifully onto her side hoping to relieve it. Once the sensation had passed, she could finally speak again. "I just want to see you. I just want to know you're okay. I don't want to be alone anymore… I love you."

Reluctantly, she hung up the phone. In the thick silence of the room, her weeping echoed with heavy sadness.

Eventually, she exhausted the last ounces of her reserved energy, and with tired eyes red and raw, she allowed herself to settle into a restless sleep. Her ears were pricked up and keen to every noise going on around her, so she was quite aware of the comings and goings of persons unknown and monsters she didn't care to see. With her eyelids pressed firmly closed, she willed herself to relax and wait patiently for Claire.

She just about managed to drift into a protracted state of rest when she startled wide awake, eyes snapping open widely in fear. A moan close by - a guttural one at that. It couldn't have been more than a few feet away from the office. She was tense with worry.

Then, a single gunshot rang out, followed by the heavy thump of a body hitting the ground. Seconds later, someone entered the room.

Sherry held her breath, her heart pounding in her ears…

_Claire…? Mommy…? Daddy…?_

It was not one of the people she had hoped for, but it was not an unwelcome visitor. It was the Asian woman, Ada, still alive and well.

When they had last parted so hastily, Sherry had not expected to see her again. She remembered quite vividly that Ada had been left to face down that mysterious Adonis in the Police Chief's office, with little more than a peashooter for her defence. Though as testament to her skill even against greater odds, she stood before her - a true survivor. Though she was marred with scratches and bruises from her battles with the undead, her perfectly composed face did not express a degree of pain. She had shaped some makeshift bandages to cover what Sherry suspected to be some nasty wounds - one on her left shoulder and the other on her right forearm - that had left streaks of blood trailing down her skin.

With the greatest of care, Ada bent down to kneel beside the bed. The stiffness in her movements indicated she was harbouring other injuries that couldn't be seen, though she was taking the pain in her stride. Offering a suave smile, she lay her hand atop of Sherry's.

"Now, I didn't expect to find you here. Of all the places for you to suddenly materialise…" She cocked her head to the side, observing her current condition. "I thought you might have escaped by now. Though, you don't appear to be in a fit enough state to be doing much running." Tenderly, she raised her other hand to rest on Sherry's forehead. Her expression switched to that of sympathy. "You're burning up. Maybe there is a medical box around here somewhere…"

"In the sewers," Sherry weakly spoke, keeping Ada's focus. "Something happened… I think I'm dying…"

"Dying?"

"I'm so sick… My chest hurts so much…" She couldn't speak anymore. Her throat was too sore. She had little to no energy left inside her, and she knew she was progressively getting worse. How long she had left before it became to much, she couldn't guess.

"Where's your friend? Is she out finding something to help you?" Sherry nodded in response. Ada smiled. "Then, there is nothing for you to worry about. You rest for now, and get that thought of dying out of your head." Her attention then went to Sherry's pendant still hanging around her neck. She opened it up, disclosing the family picture beneath. A memory of happier times. Sherry's moment of reminiscing was cut short when she saw Ada fiddling when the side of the picture. Much to her surprise, the woman managed to fold the picture forward from the back of the pendant, revealing a secret compartment behind. It was not something she was aware of in all the time she had owned the pendant. Nestled into the space, was a vial filled with purple liquid.

Sherry gaped blankly and this mysterious object. How on Earth had that gotten in her pendant?

Ada was gauging her expression at the sight of the vial, and seeing she was very much clueless to what it was, she began to speak in a soft but serious tone.

"Did you know you were carrying a deadly virus around with you?"

_A deadly virus? What does she mean? _Confused and aghast, she just stared at the seemingly innocent vial that had been hiding itself in her most prized possession. It was such a ludicrous notion that it could be something so horrible, but the solemnity of what she had said and the earnestness displayed in her eyes, she knew with great horror that it was the truth.

"I didn't think you'd know. Such a devious place to hide it as well. I'm just trying to guess which one of them did it. Your mother? Or your father?"

Sherry, though defiant to the idea that either of her parents could have placed such a horrible item there, could not voice her disagreement. Her vocal cords couldn't find the energy to muster a peep. But she let her expression denote her dispute.

Ada rested herself more comfortably against the bed, closing the pendant, sealing away that deadly virus in her possession.

"I know it is much to ask you to understand. You are a devoted daughter and understand that you love them dearly and don't want to think badly of them. But… William and Annette Birkin, your parents, have been involved with tireless years of work revolving around biotechnology and bioweaponary. Their work involved a lot of extensive research and discovery into viruses, even to the extent that your father contributed to the production of the T-Virus that makes all those zombies, and even went on to generate a more deadly virus." She lay her hand on the pendant. "The G-Virus. Something that could cause even more catastrophic destruction."

_Why is she telling me all this? I don't understand at all! They're chemical plant workers… Why would they be creating viruses? _

"You see, Sherry, your father and Umbrella have brought hell on Earth," she continued, despite the obvious distress in her young companion. "I know it must hurt you to hear this, and you probably don't want to believe it. I doubt they wanted things to turn out this way. They had nothing to gain from the virus outbreak." With the greatest of care, Ada got back to her feet. "If there is anyone you can trust right now, it is your friend. She is just as innocent as you are in this disaster. Whatever you thought your parents were was all a masquerade for something more sinister. Without a doubt they loved you very much, but they certainly did not care much for the rest of the world. Once you escape this place, stay with your friend. I'm sure you will live longer if you do so."

Her head was already swimming from the affects of his condition, but this on top was something her addled mind found hard to absorb. How could she suddenly believe her parents were creators of evil, just on the words of a woman she didn't really know? But what would she have to gain from lying to her? She felt a little bit too detached from some kind of conspiracy, and wouldn't it have been easier for Ada to kidnap her if she was wanting something from her parents? What was this _thing _she was suddenly inventing in her tired mind? Was she becoming insanely paranoid all of a sudden? Maybe with some heartbreaking reluctance she was willing to accept that maybe the parents she loved so dearly had done some terrible things. They probably hadn't meant for it to turn out this way, nor would they have wanted her to end up in such a terrible state - borderline death. Ada had told her these things were a certain weight behind her words, that never once demanded to be trusted but at least given the chance to be understood.

Maybe Claire was the only person in the world she could really trust now.

Ada stepped back from the bed, checking the magazine of her gun. "I'm sorry that I have to suddenly dash after dropping such a bombshell, but, there is something I have to do. And a cop I need to find." She smiled, mostly to herself. The expression was a tired one. "No rest for the wicked." Her attention once more rested on Sherry. "You're a strong girl. I know you'll be alright. I hope one day, when all this is over, we shall meet again."

And almost like a ghost, she disappeared in an instant, the door barely clicking a whisper as it closed behind her.

Sherry was once more alone, left with the weight of this new and unwelcome knowledge bestowed upon her. The silence that filled the room now that Ada had departed was stifling. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to forget every word. She just wanted to sleep and hope that maybe the nightmare would be over when she woke up. But it was so hard to slip into slumber with the heavy truth griping her brain in its vice like hold.

She just wanted to see her parents again, hoping in some vain way to prove Ada wrong - heck, she'd probably forgive them outright even if it was the truth, just to know they were alive and well, and that they could start afresh.

_Its so terrible of me… I'd want to make all the excuses in the world for them, just because I love them so much… Oh, why did this happen!_

Overwhelmed by pain and fatigue, she drifted back off into a dreamless sleep.

A short time later, an almost mechanic female voice tore through the speaker system, pulling her sharply back to consciousness with a cold slap of horror.

"THE SELF DESTRUCT SEQUENCE HAS BEEN ACTIVATED! REPEAT, THE SELF DESTRUCT SEQUENCE HAS BEEN ACTIVATED! THIS SEQUENCE MAY NOT BE ABORTED! ALL EMPLOYEES PROCEED TO THE EMERGENCY CAR ON THE BOTTOM PLATFORM!"

Barely had she had time to absorb the impact of the words when her ears were assaulted by the terrifying blare of alarms.

It was a countdown to destruction.


End file.
